Adventures in Solitude
by lumaluma
Summary: After years of secretly being in love with his best friend, Alfred, Matthew has to decide whether or not to give up hope and move on, or to risk a lifelong friendship for a new kind of love. UsUk, Franada, Eventual UsCan.
1. Prologue

_Starting a new, more serious story. I've been brainstorming this one for a while and I've finally figured it out to the point where I'm happy with it. There will be a fair amount of angst in this one, by the way, but there will be plenty of happy moments as well. Anyways, I'll shut up now and let you read._

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Prologue

They did everything together.

The boys met at the neighbourhood playground when they were only toddlers, but they bonded straight away. Yes, Matthew was almost excruciatingly shy, and Alfred was almost obnoxiously loud, but their differences only made them grow closer. And since they lived (literally) right next door to each other, neither boy's mother had any objection to their sons spending practically days on end together.

Alfred and Matthew shared everything, too. Clothes, ice cream, toys, all their secrets. Their families thought it was great that their boys got along so well, and encouraged the sleepovers they had almost every weekend.

It was at one of these sleepovers, at the age of seven, that the boys decided to build a blanket fort to sleep in and stayed up much later than they were supposed to. By about midnight, the novelty of the fort had worn off, so they were settling down and getting ready to sleep. Matthew was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest and Alfred was laying on his sleeping bag, his arms crossed behind his head.

Matthew bit his lip and rocked back and forth slightly. "Hey, Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Course you can, Mattie!"

"It's kinda serious."

Alfred sat up, confused. "I'm listening."

Matthew closed his eyes and whispered, "I… I think I like guys."

Alfred rolled his eyes, then flopped back onto his sleeping bag. "Well duh, everyone likes guys."

Matthew shook his head. "Not like that. I mean I think I _like _like them."

"Oh, I get it." Alfred thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Hey, no biggie. I like guys like that too."

Matthew opened his eyes. "Really?"

"Yep. You know how all the other guys say girls are gross, but they don't really mean it?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I really mean it."

Matthew smiled. "Me too."

Alfred nodded, sitting back up. "I asked my mom about it. She said that when guys like other guys it's called 'gay' and when girls like other girls it's called 'lesbian'. My dad got really mad about it for some reason, and he said it's not normal. Then my mom got mad at him for saying that."

"Back in Canada my uncle Jeff— well, he's not really my uncle, but he's been my mom's best friend since forever, so he's like family… anyways, he's gonna marry Brian. Mama say's Brian's his 'partner' and that they can get married in Canada."

Alfred smiled. "Cool! Who's gonna wear the dress?"

Both boys descended into a fit of giggles. Alfred scooted closer to Matthew and gave him a quick hug. "So, you see, we're normal! There're lots of people like us."

…

Whenever the other boys at school would taunt him for being gay, Matthew would remember what Alfred told him that night, and the harsh words thrown at him didn't sting as much. He'd smile through it all, ever the martyr, and eventually people stopped being so cruel to him. Non-violence worked for him.

Alfred didn't put up with the taunting, however. He'd gladly punch anyone who made fun of him, Mattie, or the girl in their grade who had two mothers. That got him in trouble several times, until the teachers learned what the bullying was about. Then, thanks to a few very tolerant, very fiercely anti-discriminatory teachers who stepped in, the bullying stopped. At least, it became less frequent.

As they grew up, the boys spent almost every day after school together. They had other friends, of course, but Alfred and Matthew were truly inseparable. Their weekly sleepovers still took place, though they'd occasionally have other friends with them as well. It was only after one of their friends pointed out that it was weird for two guys to share the same sleeping bag that they noticed how much closer they were than everyone else.

Still, they promised that nothing would ever come between them. They were practically brothers, after all, and were so close that spending even just a week apart was hard for them. When one of the boys stayed home from school sick, the other would come over right after school to see him. Matthew came down with the chicken pox in fourth grade, and after his mother kept Alfred away from him because she didn't want him to get infected as well, Alfred found a way to see Matthew. He climbed up a tree in the backyard and crawled into Matthew's room through the window, and stayed there until Matthew's mom came into the room to give him some soup.

A week later, when Alfred came down with the chicken pox, everyone but the two of them was surprised. But then both boys just stayed home from school together, playing games and talking all day. It helped Matthew get better much faster than the medicine he was on, and Alfred recovered at the same rate as him. Their parents gave up trying to keep them apart after that, letting them see each other no matter what. It made their sons happy, after all, and they fully encouraged the bond between the two boys.

…

Puberty was hard for Matthew. Not the voice cracks, acne, sudden growth spurts, and random body hair, either. His hormones affected him in those ways, yes, but they bothered him more because of something else. He had been best friends with Alfred for years, and the other boy always held a special place in his heart, but as his mind and body matured, he found that friendship turning into a one-sided longing on his part. Alfred still only saw him as a friend, as a brother, but Matthew had fallen in love with him. He didn't tell Alfred about any of this, hoping that it was just a side-effect of growing up, hoping that it was just his crazed, hormone-addled brain.

It wasn't.

It didn't help that at the tender age of fourteen, the two shared their first kiss after their high school's homecoming dance. They were in Matthew's basement, still in their nice clothes, just talking about how exciting it was to finally be in high school, and how fun it'd be, when Alfred suddenly mentioned that he'd never kissed anyone. Matthew confessed the same, and Alfred shyly – which was surprising all on its own – asked Matthew if he could kiss him.

It was brief, soft, and almost hesitant, but it still left Matthew's heart thundering and his head reeling. Two things happened after that: Alfred stayed the same; Matthew's feelings for his best friend only grew stronger.

They spent so much time together that people sometimes thought they were brothers, but Matthew couldn't help but feel jealous when Alfred brought his first boyfriend home to meet his parents when they were still in the ninth grade. In fact, he was almost happy that Alfred's dad blew a gasket and started shouting, except the look on Alfred's face nearly broke his heart.

Alfred practically ran into Matthew's arms after that. So Matthew spent the evening and most of the night holding Alfred close, stroking his hair, and murmuring words of comfort to him as they hid in his basement, hoping Alfred's father would calm down. It was the first time Al had ever said something to his parents about being gay, though he had hinted at it for months.

When Matthew heard Al's parents yelling at each other for the first time, he was shocked. He knew that Alfred's dad was angry that his only child was gay, and that it was a cause for tension in the Jones household, but he didn't think it would cause Al's parents to fight like that. This was even a couple years after Alfred had first come out to them. Matt and Al were sitting in the basement, listening to Alfred's mother call her husband a homophobic bigot while he told her she was too overbearing and had caused Alfred to turn out gay. Matthew decided not to make a big deal about it, since Alfred wasn't saying anything, but he saw Alfred wince every time his parents' voices got a little louder, and he knew it hurt him. He asked if Alfred was okay, knowing the answer ahead of time. Alfred shook his head.

"Not really. It's my fault they're fighting." Alfred stared at his feet, refusing to look Matt in the eyes. "If I was normal, they wouldn't be yelling at each other."

"Al, you _are_ normal. We're both normal. We've been like this forever, and you know you can't help it."

"We aren't normal. If we were normal, why would everyone talk about us behind our backs? Guys at school laugh at us, Matt. A couple of the other guys on the basketball team shoved me into the lockers and called me a fucking faggot after practice yesterday. If we were normal, they wouldn't do that!"

"But didn't the rest of the guys tell them to shut up and leave you alone? They stick up for you, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Listen to me, Al." Matthew took Alfred's face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "There are always going to be assholes in the world. You can't let it get to you. You're normal, and so am I. It's not your fault your parents are fighting, it's their fault. You can't change who you love any more than you can change the colour of your skin. We've been like this since we were kids, and I know you remember what you said when we first talked about it."

"But what if I was wrong?" Alfred turned his head away from Matthew, biting his lip.

"You weren't. Trust me on this one, Al. It's not your fault that you're gay. It's not anyone's fault. And if your parents are fighting about it, they'll have to sort it out themselves."

Alfred leaned against Matthew, sighing. "I just wish they'd stop yelling."

"I know. Look, come over to my house tonight. We'll eat potato chips and watch bad movies."

"Okay." Alfred hugged Matthew, leaning his head on his shoulder. "You always know just what to say, don't you?"

"I guess." Matthew patted Alfred on the back. "Now let's get out of here."

He was always there to comfort Alfred, and Alfred was always there to comfort him. Matthew had a few rough times of his own when the stress of everything really got to him and he ended up curling into a little ball on the couch and asking himself what the point of life was, why he was even alive. It wasn't pretty. Alfred helped him through that, mostly by dragging him outside to look at the world and realize that life was worth living just for the sake of seeing something new every day. It wasn't much, but it helped, and Matthew stopped feeling so sorry for himself.

Matthew's parents were mercifully accepting of his sexuality. When he came out to them, around the same time Alfred came out to his parents, his mother laughed with relief at the fact that her little baby wasn't going to knock anyone up, and his father joked about whether he was going to give his son away at the altar. They offered their love and support to both boys, somehow knowing without asking that Alfred's family was going through a rough patch, and treated Alfred just like a son.

However, neither of Matthew's parents noticed how their son looked at his best friend until Matt and Al were graduating high school and planning to go to the same university. When it finally dawned on them that Matthew loved Alfred more than just a friend, they had a long talk with him about love, heartbreak, and not getting hurt. Matthew promised them he'd be all right, glad that they finally noticed how he felt, that at least someone noticed.

…

University was a whirlwind of lectures, studying, exams, parties, hangovers, job hunts and jealousy for Matthew. Even in grad school, he _hated_ each and every one of Alfred's boyfriends, or even anyone who flirted with Alfred. He could never hold down a relationship for more than a couple months, either. He told himself that it was because he was busy working on his degree and didn't have any time for romance or serious relationships, but deep down he knew it was because he compared every single one of his boyfriends to Alfred and found that, one way or another, no one measured up to him. To him, it seemed that no one ever could.

His love for Alfred stayed strong through the years. To Matthew, every night spent taking care of him when he was sick, comforting him after a breakup, watching the world's dumbest horror movies, and playing ridiculously long video game marathons was worth it just to spend time with Alfred.

Even though they were fully-grown and capable of taking care of themselves, they were still inseparable. They kept the promise they had made as kids, not letting anything get between them and never spending more than a couple days apart or more than a few hours without texting each other. Matthew liked getting reminders throughout the day that his best friend cared about him, and that only made his affection for Alfred grow.

Matthew's other friends told him it probably wasn't healthy to bottle up that much emotion for so many years, but Matthew could never find the right time or the right words to tell his best friend how he really felt. He never stopped hoping that one day, Alfred would stop being so oblivious and finally notice that his best friend had been in love with him for years. Matthew clung to that hope, knowing that at least he was the right gender for Alfred to love.

…

Even once they graduated and _still_ spent so much time at each other's apartments that they may as well have been living together, Matthew could never muster up the courage to talk to Alfred about his love for him. He decided it was better to not jeopardize their friendship for something that might not last, for something that could fall apart so easily.

But it wasn't long after they started working their ways up the corporate ladder that Alfred met… _him._ Matthew _hated _him with a burning passion because, well, he couldn't find anything to hate about him. He and Alfred were perfect together. So perfect it was sickening. They bickered like an old married couple, snuggled together on the couch in a way that was so cute it made Matthew want to vomit, and agreed and disagreed perfectly on everything from throw rugs to politics.

So, to compensate for the overwhelming amounts of fluffy happiness that filled Alfred's apartment after _he_ moved in, Matthew became increasingly bitter. He managed to hide it from Alfred – hiding important things from his best friend was something he was a little too good at – and usually from _him_, but sometimes Matthew would let a snarky little comment slip, and _he_ would see right through Matthew's façade of friendliness. But that didn't discourage _him _one bit. If anything, it only made _him _keep Alfred closer. Maybe _he_ was worried about losing Alfred to Matthew, but Matthew didn't know. He wasn't going to ask, either.

Almost every time Matthew was over at Alfred's, and _he _was there, Matthew found the same thoughts going through his head. Fuck him and his stupid embroidered throw pillows. Fuck him and his coats with the leather patches on the elbows. Fuck him and his bike-riding everywhere he went. Fuck him and his needlework. Fuck him and his tea and biscuits. Fuck him and his tweed jackets. Fuck him and his hatred for all things French. Fuck him and his horrible food—well, Alfred agreed with him on that one. But still, that damn Brit just waltzed into Matthew's happy little world and swept Alfred right off his feet.

Even though he'd known Alfred almost all his life, Matthew knew damn well he didn't stand a chance against that charming accent, always those little nicknames, 'love' and 'poppet' and 'sweet'. And sure, _he _offered to help Alfred with the rent, but that didn't mean _he _could move right in after only a few months! And it seemed that almost every time Matthew stayed over, _he_ had something to prove and dragged Alfred off to the bedroom for obnoxiously loud sex.

To top it all off, _he _was a lawyer. Not one of the few who were actually decent human beings, either, from Matthew's point of view. No, _he _was one of those scum-of-the-earth kind of lawyers. Matthew knew lawyers who were also good people – he was good friends with one, actually – and as far as he was concerned, Alfred's boyfriend was _not_ one of those.

So, since he couldn't bear to split Alfred and his boyfriend up, Matthew settled for hating everything about _him_. Arthur Kirkland… how Matthew loathed that name.

End Prologue

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_Thanks for reading. Let me know what you thought, and feel free to point out anything I can improve upon. I lack a beta, so everything is self-edited and I occasionally miss things._

_Drop a review if you like, let me know what you think!_


	2. Chapter 1

_After that rather dark, not-so-happy intro, I have a lighter chapter for you! I suppose even I can only write angst so much… anyways, read on._

_Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!_

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Matthew had spent the night at Alfred's, nothing out of the ordinary. The guest bedroom was pretty much his bedroom, just like the guest bedroom at his apartment practically belonged to Al. When he dragged himself out of bed after a bit of a battle with the alarm on the phone, the smell of something burning in the kitchen started to worry him. He got dressed, shaved, and washed his face quickly, wanting to make sure nothing horrible was happening in the kitchen.

The apartment building wasn't burning down, however. No, Arthur was just 'cooking.' He was frying – ahem, burning – something on the stove. Eggs? Bacon? Who knew? In any case, Matthew knew he'd be skipping breakfast again. He fiddled with the coffee maker, grunted a 'good morning' to Arthur, and sat down at the table. Not _his_ job to be peachy and perky in the morning.

The Englishman smiled politely at him. "Good morning, Matthew. Did you sleep well?" The bastard knew damn well Matthew hated making conversation before his coffee, but there he was, being sociable.

Matthew sighed. "Slept fine. Needed earplugs, though." He was feeling particularly unpleasant, so he continued, "Do you mind keeping it down once in a while? Really, sometimes I can't tell if you guys are trying to destroy the furniture or fuck-"

"Morning, guys!" Alfred walked into the room, so Matthew snapped his mouth shut. Alfred kissed Arthur on the cheek, messed up Matthew's hair, grabbed a bottle of juice from the fridge, and sat down across from Matthew. "So, what's for breakfast today?"

Arthur passed both men plates of the blackened… something. Matthew sighed internally. Great, now he actually had to pretend to eat. Arthur looked somehow pleased with his concoction, smiling at Alfred. "Hash browns," he said, "the potatoes in the cupboard were starting to get old, and there's no sense in wasting perfectly good food."

Matthew took a bite, forced himself to swallow, and rinsed it down with a swig of coffee. Well, if the potatoes weren't wasted earlier, they sure were now. Completely blackened, at that.

Alfred grimaced at the food when Arthur's back was turned. He and Matthew both made gagging faces at each other, Alfred even grabbing his throat like he was choking before grinning and dropping his hands. He turned around to speak to Arthur. "Hon, did you forget to grease the pan again? Oil stops stuff from sticking, remember?"

Arthur frowned. "I knew I'd forgotten something. Tell me, do either of you think I should just give up on cooking altogether?"

Absolutely, Matthew thought, it'd save us all from bouts of indigestion! But no, that would be rude…

"You just need a bit of instruction, that's all." Matthew gave up on trying to eat, scraping his plate into the garbage and putting it in the dishwasher. "Anyways, I'd better run. The carpool's almost here, I just got a text."

Alfred nodded. "M'kay. Text me if you're free after work, will ya? I'm planning on picking up that new C.O.D. game after work, so we should break it in together."

"I'll bring the beer if you'll pay for the pizza."

"It's a deal. See ya tonight!"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Honestly, sometimes you two act like you're still teenagers."

"Hey, at least we don't embroider towels and put lace doilies around the place, grandma."

"Well, I never-"

"Save the arguing for work, Artie. I gotta shower and get out the door. See ya later, Matt!"

"Bye, Al."

Arthur glared at Alfred. "I wasn't done talking, you insolent little-"

They were still bickering when the door swung shut behind Matthew. He ran down the stairs and out of the apartment building, heading for the car that waited out front. Why he had decided to carpool with – or even befriend, for that matter – the three strangest people at his work was beyond him, but he wasn't about to change that.

It was Gilbert's car this morning, so German heavy metal was being blasted through the speakers loud enough for Matthew to make out some of the words when he was still about ten feet from the car, even though all the windows were rolled up. He rolled his eyes, opening the car door and sliding inside. "Morning, guys. Sorry I'm late, but I had to pretend to eat for once this morning."

Gilbert, the head of the research and development department (and also Matthew's boss), laughed from the driver's seat. "Haha, that sucks! What was it, burnt toast or burnt eggs?"

"Neither. Burned potatoes."

"You're kidding! Ach, what a waste!"

Antonio, who was in the passenger seat, subtly turned down the volume on the car stereo and turned around to smile at Matthew. "At least you have lunch to look forward to."

"Yeah, I guess." Matthew looked around and promptly swore. "Shit! I left my lunch in Al's fridge."

Gilbert shrugged. "Sorry, I'm not turning the car around now. Traffic's _way_ too heavy to pull off an awesome U-turn right now."

Francis rolled his eyes from the seat beside Matthew and patted his friend's hand. "And I believe you forgot your coffee as well, _mon ami_."

"You're right. _Goddammit_." Matthew pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "And now I'm going to get a headache from caffeine withdrawal. That's just _great_."

Francis just smiled knowingly and procured – seemingly from thin air – a small paper bag of pastries and a thermos of coffee. "We figured you would forget, so each of us decided to contribute something. I have breakfast here for you, Toni made you lunch, and Gil-"

"Did the most awesome thing! I rescheduled morning meeting. We're having it at two now." He sighed happily from the front seat. "It's good to be king."

Matthew smiled at all of them. Ah, now he remembered why he was friends with these three. They cared about him, surprisingly enough. "Thanks, you guys. I seriously need to pay you back for this sometime."

Gilbert shrugged. "You know the drill. Next time I feel like getting plastered, you're my designated driver, and then we're even."

Antonio waved Matthew off. "Please, it's nothing. But it would be nice if you checked over my progress report for this quarter, make sure I have all the numbers right. You know I have trouble with data, just all the numbers… I can't figure it out to save my life!"

Francis just raised an eyebrow at Matthew and smiled suggestively, and Matthew blushed. He cleared his throat. "Um… yeah. Really though, thanks. This day was just _not_ starting out well, but now I think it'll be okay." He took a bite out of a croissant, closing his eyes. Damn, Francis could bake. If Arthur could even cook half as well as this, he'd stop complaining. Now _this_ was food, and it seemed that his taste buds hadn't died from that horrific excuse for a breakfast after all.

…

Work was work, and when Matthew got back home, he got changed, grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge, and headed over to Alfred's, even though he knew Al probably wasn't home from work yet. Matthew had a key, after all, and they pretty much walked in and out of each other's places as they pleased. He let himself into the apartment, kicking off his shoes, shoving the beer in the fridge and grabbing the lunch he had meant to take with him. He ate some of it as a quick snack at the kitchen table, expecting Alfred to be home soon enough.

Arthur was home first, setting his things down and taking off his shoes. Matthew fully intended to ignore him, since they usually didn't talk unless Alfred was around. Arthur walked into the kitchen, apparently noticing Matthew. "Ah, you're home already? Did your meetings get out early for once?" he was about to hug Matthew until he put a hand up to stop him.

"Wrong guy, Arthur."

"Oh, Matthew. Sorry, from the back-"

"Yeah, Al and I look pretty much the same from the back. I know."

Arthur grabbed an orange out of the fruit bowl on the counter (another thing Matthew hated about him: fruit was supposed to go in the fridge) and sat down at the table. "You don't need to be so touchy. I didn't mean anything by it, really." Matthew knew it was only _because_ it was Arthur that he was so touchy, but he didn't really care. He didn't say it, but Arthur still seemed to understand it somehow, and the Englishman sighed. "Look, I know you don't like me, but you don't need to be so hostile."

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't need words to communicate feelings, Matthew."

"Well, in my experience, with some people it definitely seems that way."

Arthur sighed again, opening his mouth to say something, when the front door opened and Alfred came in. "Hiya, guys! Man, what a day. Oh yeah, Matt, you forgot-"

"My lunch, I know. Toni took care of that for me."

"And-"

"My coffee. Francis took care of that for me."

Alfred and Arthur both looked impressed. "Dude, you've got good friends."

"They know when you're going to forget things? I wish my colleagues could be that attentive."

Matthew shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. "Well, we've been pretty close for a while, so I guess they've figured me out pretty well. That's what being nice to your colleagues can do for you."

"Yeah, especially when one of them is your-"

"Don't say it, Al," Matthew warned him, standing up to get him a can of pop from the fridge. Unlike Arthur, he knew that Alfred only drank hot beverages in the morning (unless it was hot chocolate), and preferred to have something cold as soon as he got home from a long day of work. It had started in middle school, and Alfred hadn't changed that habit since. He tossed the can to Alfred. "So, how was your day?"

"Meh, it was so-so. My boss is being an ass. Says the revised project plan is unreasonable, even though we're actually _under_ budget now. I've triple-checked my calculations, and even had one of our finance guys go over it too. It's all totally correct, we're sure of it."

"At least you checked your work. My intern won't go over anything he's done at all. And we're right in the middle of programming test runs for the new prototype, too. That's something we have to be really careful with." Matthew sighed, and Alfred smirked.

"And you've gotten Gil to breathe down his neck about it, right?"

"Yes, of course. He's just super stubborn! I think I might go to Antonio next."

"Oh yeah, he's one of your company's bigwigs, I forgot!" Alfred sat down at the kitchen table, popping the tab on his pop can and kissing Arthur on the cheek. "And how was your day, hon?"

"Oh, same old, same old. One of my clients wants to sue someone, one of their competitors, for copyright infringement. The horror of horrors, as you know."

"Yeah, that sucks. So, you okay with pizza for dinner tonight? Me and Matt are gonna have a bro night, but if you wanna cook something for yourself, go right ahead."

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'll manage."

"Cool!" Alfred kissed him on the cheek again, and Arthur patted him on the hand.

"Now run along and play your video game. No shouting after ten-thirty, all right? I don't want the neighbours complaining again."

"Okay, no prob! Matt, you ready?"

Matthew had been leaning against the kitchen counter, trying to avoid looking at Alfred and Arthur's affectionate display. "Hm? Oh, yeah. Ready when you are. What game is it, again?"

"You know the new Call of Duty game everyone's been fussing over?"

"Yeah. Is it that one?"

"Hell yes."

"As long as we're not playing any creepy maps, I'm fine with it."

"Creepy maps in C.O.D.? Nah, those are pretty rare." They walked over to the living room, Alfred popping the disk into his game console. "And no way I'd do something like that on a work night. I don't need insomnia tonight. Hey, do you remember that one P.C. game, where you're trapped in a giant mansion and there are all those creepy zombie things and you go insane? It's a one player thing, but we did it together."

"Amnesia?"

"Yeah, that one. We should totally play it again sometime!"

"Al, last time we tried that we ended up screaming like a couple girls and you jumped in my lap."

"Hey, at least I didn't throw the keyboard across the room, cover my face, and _whimper._"

Matthew rolled his eyes. Sadly, Alfred wasn't exaggerating. "And you were shaking so badly I was worried you might pee on me."

"What, you're not into that kind of thing?"

Matthew looked at Alfred like he was nuts, and Alfred started laughing. They could hear Arthur sigh from across the apartment, and they both grinned. It was going to be one of _those_ nights, eh? If Arthur sighed before they even started playing, they would start a tally of how many times he would sigh before he just gave up and went to the bedroom to read a book.

They beat their record of thirty-seven when Alfred took a cheap shot at Matthew (even though they had agreed to team up on the other guys first), and jumped up off the couch, shouting, "Aw yeah! Take _that,_ bitch!"

"You're a dead man, Al."

"Bring it, sucker!" Alfred sat down, grinning and dodging the playful punch Matthew aimed at him. "I'd like to see your little pussy skills kill the most amazing Al—oh, shit. How'd you do that?"

Matthew had managed to sneak up and shoot him from behind while Alfred was gloating. "You were saying?"

"Shut up. I'm still winning!"

Arthur sighed, and they heard his chair scrape across the floor and his feet pad across the apartment. "You hooligans are _really_ quite noisy. Especially you, Alfred."

"Suck it. I'm having fun."

"I can tell. Well, I'm going to read a book. Don't break anything in your excitement, love." He kissed Alfred on the top of the head and left the room.

Alfred and Matthew fist-bumped as soon as he left. "Record broken. New high score, thirty-eight. Victory drinks?"

"Only if you pause so I can go get the beers from the fridge. I don't trust you not to kill me while I'm gone."

Alfred pouted. "You think I'd do something like that?"

"Al, I've known you since we started walking. I _know_ you'd do something like that."

"Damn. Forgot about that. Arthur's still gullible enough that he'll do stuff like that."

"Like when you fake being sick and he can't tell if you're actually sick or not?"

"Yeah. You actually know when I'm faking, which is why I gotta keep you away when I want to be babied. We don't need Arthur learning the difference between my 'coughing my lungs out' cough and my 'too lazy to get off the couch for lunch' cough."

"Well, it's a good thing I don't actually live here, or you'd never get the chance to be fake-sick."

"Yeah, true. And you don't have anyone living with you, so when you're lazy, you gotta do stuff yourself anyways. Oh yeah, what's Francis been up to lately?"

"He's just living life like everyone else. Why do you ask?" Matthew returned with the beers, passing one to Alfred.

"Well, aren't you two like, dating?"

"Um… sort of, but not really. It's not anything really serious, though."

"Dude, I've read his texts to you. Those are some pretty serious intentions, if you ask me."

Matthew choked on his beer. "Al! You _still _go through my phone?"

"Duh. C'mon, the first thing I ever heard him say was that one time I answered your phone 'cuz you were taking a leak. You know what he said?"

"You've only said it about fifty times."

"He said, 'If you're not too busy, say yes and be naked and ready in fifteen minutes.' Then he said something in French."

"I _know_, Al. And I'm okay with it."

"Dude, T.M.I."

"That's not T.M.I., trust me. If anything, T.M.I. is you sneaking out of your bedroom to grab the condoms from your bathroom in nothing but your underpants because you think I won't see you from the living room."

Alfred looked sheepish. "Aw c'mon, that was-"

"Two months ago. And your one-minute conversation with Francis where you freaked out over nothing was six months ago."

"Right." Alfred pressed the resume button on the controller. "At least I'm trying to protect you from him. He's a pervert."

"And I've told you before, I'm okay with that. That's what our relationship is about, okay?"

"It's still weird to think about. You, shy little Mattie, always the good kid, having a friend with benefits!"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Matthew shot at a couple guys when something on the screen blew up and they both jumped.

"Holy shit! Dude, what did you do?"

"I don't know!"

"Man, that was a fucking jumpscare. Jeez, my heart's still pounding. Ah!" He shot Matthew's character and then burst out laughing. "Whoops! That was you. Sorry, man."

"Hey! Why'd you kill me?"

"I didn't mean to, I swear! You looked like one of the other guys."

"Calm down, Al. It's just a game."

"Whatever." Alfred stuck his tongue out at Matthew, who was mildly tempted to lean over and bite it, but resisted. That would most likely not go over well. So they just went back to playing.

…

A couple hours later, they shut the game off for the night. Alfred yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "You spending the night?"

"Not tonight. I'm the carpool driver tomorrow."

"Oh, right. Hey, when you see Gil tomorrow, tell him we should have another gaming session soon. I'll get Kiku in on it, okay?"

Matthew stood up and walked over to the door, putting his shoes on. "Sounds good. See you later, Al."

"Sleep tight, dude!" Alfred got up off the couch and gave him a quick hug. "And don't let the French guys bite."

"Al!"

"Sorry, sorry. Had to do it. Seriously though, good night."

"Yeah."

"Luv ya, dude!"

"Love you too."

Matthew left, and when he got home he went right to bed after brushing his teeth. He wasn't really tired, but he knew he had to get to bed soon, and he decided that earlier was better than later. He collapsed on his bed, taking off his glasses before crawling under the covers and flicking off his lamp. He sighed, staring up at the ceiling and wishing things didn't have to be the way they were.

Nights like that, he could just hang out with Alfred and forget anything he felt for him, just letting them be friends. But as soon as he left, as soon as he was alone, all the emotions came back and he just felt tired and sad. It was the same whenever he saw Arthur with Alfred, only then he also got angry. He knew that his hatred for the Englishman really wasn't reasonable, but he couldn't help it.

Matthew just felt that he deserved Alfred more, even though he knew it was selfish and stupid. He just couldn't help it, no matter what he did. After so many years of being in love with Alfred, it was just too painful to imagine him with anyone else, but it was just as painful to imagine trying to take him away from someone he really loved. It was a vicious circle, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Either way, it hurt him, but he had no choice. He just loved Alfred too much.

* * *

_And, of course, just when I say it's not angsty, this ending happens. Whoopsie-daisy. Anyways, thank you for reading! Drop a review if you like, let me know what you thought. Any and all feedback is really appreciated! I like hearing from my readers._


	3. Chapter 2

_Unimportant notes: Now, this chapter has a mix of light-heartedness and serious content. And mature content near the end. Just a heads-up! And a big thank you to everyone who has favourited, followed, and reviewed so far. You guys help more than you know. Anyways, read on._

* * *

"Stop. Really, just stop."

"What?"

"You're doing it wrong."

"Well, this is what I was taught to do!"

"You were taught wrong, then. We do things differently here." Matthew elbowed his intern out of the way, sitting down at the computer the young man was working at. "The programming on this software isn't what you're used to, trust me. It took me a couple months to get the hang of it, though, so don't worry."

The intern crossed his arms. "Why do you guys have to have a different system? It's stupid!"

"I know it is, but it's actually much more efficient than the drawing programs you've probably used over the years. Here, let me show you a couple tricks." Matthew gave a few pointers to the intern, since he knew the other man would probably royally fuck things up. Antonio appeared all of a sudden, apparently on one of his rounds of the labs.

"Hi guys! Matt, you teaching the new kid?"

"You bet."

"Great!" Antonio smiled at them both, "Don't you worry, Lovi, we'll have you working up through the ranks in no time!"

"Don't call me Lovi." The intern crossed his arms and sighed. "It's not funny."

"But it's cute, right? See you around, Lovi, Matt!"

He waved goodbye, and Matthew smiled. "Bye, Toni." When he was gone, Lovino glared at the doorway.

"What a weirdo."

Matthew rolled his eyes. Some people didn't appreciate Antonio's constant happy, bubbly attitude, and Lovino was one of them. It made him even grumpier and pissier than usual, and Matthew secretly thought he just _really_ needed to get laid. He showed Lovino a couple more quick shortcuts before standing up. "Okay, I'm going to run and get some coffee. I'll be back in a few, so just keep working."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Lovino waved him off, and Matthew left the lab.

He got into the elevator, planning to head to the break room, just happy to be away from Lovino for a couple minutes. When he got there, he found Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis sitting at one of the tables and talking in low voices. Probably scheming about something. Matthew heard Francis mutter Lovino's name and suppressed a smirk. Yep, they were definitely scheming. He set a paper cup under the coffee machine, pressing a button, and they all jumped, looking up at him.

Gilbert sighed. "Phew, it's just you!"

"Please tell me you're not planning to kill my intern."

Francis laughed. "Kill? No, no. Why would we kill him?"

"Because he's a dick and we all know it."

Francis shrugged. "Fair enough. But Toni thinks he's cute, so we can't kill him."

Matthew gave Antonio a _look_, and the Spaniard looked guilty. "Sorry, but he _is_ cute! And maybe we can help him come around."

Matthew raised his eyebrows, and Gilbert snickered. "Great word choice. But seriously, we've been trying to figure something out. Wanna hear it?"

Matthew picked up his cup and pulled up a chair. "I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyways. Is it your plan, Gil?"

"_Ja,_ of course! You know we have a conference thing in a couple weeks?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"We eat dinner with the guys from Chicago, right?"

"Yes… what are you getting at?"

Gilbert smiled. "I'm thinking we get him drunk, have him tell us a bunch of secrets, and then he'll be forced to be nice or we'll spill the beans to everyone!"

Matthew shook his head and sighed, closing his eyes. "That's your brilliant plan?"

Francis laughed, leaning back in his seat. "I told you it was a bad idea!"

Gilbert glared at him. "I'd like to see you do better, asshole."

"Oh, believe me, I can do better. Just get Toni to sleep with him, because really, that's much easier and will probably work better."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Seriously Francis, sex isn't the answer to everything. Besides, I think he's straight." Matthew, Francis, and Antonio all smirked at that, and Gilbert frowned. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

"He's definitely not straight. Really Gil, you need to get out more, _mon ami_."

"Shut it, Frenchy. I still don't see how that's a good plan."

France shrugged, pulling his hair back with an elastic into a ponytail. "I'm just going off of experience for this one."

"What experience are you talking about?"

"You remember how, when our _cher _Matthew first got here, he was a nervous wreck?"

Matthew knew where this was going, and he felt like crawling under the table. Gilbert, apparently, was clueless to this. "_Ja_, I remember. What about it?"

"Well, how you do think he got to be so more relaxed around here?" Francis smirked, and Antonio rolled his eyes, but Gilbert still seemed oblivious.

"Toni didn't sleep with him, that's for sure."

"No, Toni didn't. But I did." Francis sounded just a little bit smug, and Matthew stood up, grabbing his coffee, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Um… I'm going to get back to work now. So…"

Gilbert tilted his head, just now understanding what Francis was saying. "You mean… oh, I get it. So, _that's_ how it all started, _ja?_"

"But of course! I mean, it wasn't just for _his_ benefit, of course, but-"

"Bye guys!" Matthew slammed the door to the break room behind him and sighed. Why did Gilbert have to be a complete dumbass at the worst of times? Really, it wasn't like it was a secret anymore, not since Matthew had a little too much to drink at last year's Christmas party and kissed Francis in front of everyone. Now _that_ was embarrassing.

He checked his watch as he got back in the elevator and sighed. Two more hours. At least it was Friday, so he could just go home and rest. His phone buzzed in his pocket, so he checked it quickly. It was a text from Al, asking if he was free after work. Matthew decided that just calling him would be easier than a twenty minute back-and-forth texting spree, so he called him once he was out of the elevator.

Alfred picked up almost right away. "Wassup?"

"You texted."

"Yeah, and?"

"I'm free. What did you have in mind?"

"Well… you could help me make dinner so Art won't try to. And then we can watch a movie!"

"A horror movie?"

"Yeah, duh. So, you up for it, or is your boyfriend going to steal you away tonight?"

Matthew rolled his eyes, stepping back into the lab. Lovino was the only in there, and Matthew honestly didn't give a shit about what he overheard. "For the last time Al, you _know_ that Francis and I aren't dating. Really."

"Sure, sure."

"I mean it. We just sleep together sometimes."

"You mean all the time. And he stays over to make you breakfast. Naked. I saw that, remember?"

"Well, at least he can cook! And he wasn't naked, he had an apron on." Lovino looked over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowed, and Matthew smirked. "You're just jealous that Arthur can't cook."

"He can, but his idea of cooking is burning everything to a crisp or making it totally bland, mushy, and flavorless."

Matthew laughed. "True. I'll be over tonight, I don't have anything planned."

"Cool. Come over right after work, 'kay? I'll be home early today."

"Okay, see you then."

"Bye!"

Matthew hung up, and when he saw Lovino looking at him with wide eyes, he just smiled. "Got everything figured out?"

"Uh… yeah. I think so." Lovino swiveled around in his chair, and Matthew heard him mutter, "What the fuck did I just hear?"

He smirked, sitting down at his computer and getting back to work. "Right. I've got a conference call with some people in Houston in a few minutes, so try to keep it down, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be quiet." Lovino looked over his shoulder at Matthew, raised his eyebrows, and looked back at his computer.

…

As soon as he was off work, Matthew got his three other carpool companions (as Gilbert had dubbed them) together and shooed them out of the office as quickly as he could. "I'm driving, and I've got somewhere to be. Let's go, guys."

"Fine, fine. Shotgun!"

"Gil, you're the first to be dropped off. You don't get shotgun."

Antonio laughed, clapping Gilbert on the back. "Looks like we're in the back together, as always."

"Fine, jerk. You know you only let Francis sit up front 'cuz you're sleeping together. That's a conflict of interest!"

Francis rolled his eyes. "No it isn't, you idiot. My place just happens to be closest to Matthew's, so I'm in the car with him longest, therefore I get the front seat. Now just sit down and shut up, please."

"Hmph." Gilbert crossed his arms. "I still say I should get to sit up front. I'm the coolest here, after all."

Matthew shook his head and sighed. "Sure thing, Gil. Now buckle up, please."

When he got home, he dropped his stuff off and changed quickly, then walked over to Al's. The American was in the kitchen, poring over a cookbook with a worried expression on his face. When Matthew closed the door behind himself, Alfred looked up and sighed in relief. "Thank god you're here, dude. I have no idea what I'm doing!"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "And you think I know how to cook?"

"Well, it's worth a shot. It's only a curry, though, and I figured it wouldn't be too hard. Man, was I wrong. So… help?"

"I'll try. Don't get your hopes up, though."

"Thanks, Matt. You're a lifesaver."

Matthew shook his head, elbowing Alfred out of the way and taking over stirring the contents of a pan on the stove. "Hey, it doesn't smell half bad this time. Last time was… well, never mind. But really, first my intern, now you? I'm doing everyone's work today."

"I'm sorry, dude! Oh yeah, does he still have a stick up his ass?"

"I'd say it's lodged pretty far up there. And I'm definitely not the one who's going to fish it out."

Alfred laughed, pulling a couple cans of pop out of the fridge and passing one to Matthew. "Not your type?"

"Not at all." Matthew opened the can and took a swig.

"So, whose job is it gonna be? Antonio's?"

"Probably, since Gilbert wants to throttle him about as much as I do. Well, more than I do."

"You, being violent? That's new."

"I know, eh? I never knew how annoying and frustrating people could be until he came along. Now, if only he and Gilbert would stop competing for the asshole of the month award…" Matthew sighed, and Alfred smirked.

"I know the feeling. My boss… jeez. I swear, he doesn't know how to let someone work without constantly breathing down their neck. It drives us all nuts! He's a dick about it too, all up in my business and shit when I know I'm doing stuff right. Guh." He rolled his eyes, and Matthew nodded sympathetically. Alfred shrugged. "Meh, at least I've got you and Art to whine to."

"Yeah. Speaking of which, why are you trying to cook something nice?"

"Trying?" Alfred elbowed Matthew in the ribs jokingly. "I'm succeeding! And it's because… well… Arthur's been really stressed out 'cuz of work lately, and I figured this might help him relax a little. He likes being able to come home to dinner. Oh yeah, and tea. Put the kettle on, will ya?"

Matthew nodded, putting it on the stove. "But you still invited me over?"

"Yeah. I'm gonna tell him to eat, drink some tea, and go have a bubble bath. We're gonna let him have a nice, quiet evening at home. I mean sure, we're gonna be freaking out every couple minutes if the movie's really freaky, but he thinks it's funny when we – and I quote – squawk and flail around like a couple birds trying to fly."

Matthew shook his head, smiling. "Okay, I know we look dumb sometimes, but that's exaggerating."

"Yeah, I know. But hey, whatever makes him happy." Alfred shrugged, and Matthew looked up from the curry he was stirring. Alfred was smiling, not really looking at anything in particular.

"Yeah," Matthew murmured, "But for me, it's whatever makes you happy."

They cooked in silence for a couple minutes until Alfred looked up from what he was doing, seemingly remembering something. "Oh yeah, and I need to talk to you about something. It's nothing bad, so don't freak out or anything, but it's important."

"What do you mean?"

Just then, the front door swung open, and a very tired, stressed-looking Arthur stepped into the apartment, briefcase in hand and his jacket draped over his arm. "I'm home," he said weakly, dropping his things by the door.

"Hey, hon!" Alfred walked over and hugged him, kissing him on the forehead, both cheeks, and then his lips. "Dinner's almost ready, and I've got tea steeping for you already."

Arthur sighed, leaning his forehead against Alfred's. "Alfred, my love, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

"You put up with all my crap, that's what. Now c'mon, sit down." Matthew watched him hug Arthur one more time, then looked away. It was so disgustingly perfect that it made him want to throw up and yell and sulk in the corner all at the same time. But it still made him smile, just because Alfred was so happy like that.

At least after dinner (which really had turned out quite well, all things considered), Alfred merrily booted Arthur out of the room telling him to take a bath and promising him a back massage later. Alfred flopped on the couch, fiddling with the remote as he set up the DVD player. "Alfred the therapist is currently off duty. Alfred, the guy who screams at the television, is currently on duty. Is Matthew the wimp on duty?"

"I'm not a wimp, but yes." Matthew threw a pillow at Alfred's head, rolling his eyes when Alfred caught it and chucked it right back at him.

"Yay! Now, let's get this movie started. I heard there's a lot of blood, so it's a good thing we ate first."

"Great. Now we'll be cringing in disgust as well as squawking like birds."

"Twice the fun, dude. Twice the fun."

…

After the movie (which really wasn't all that scary, though it was pretty gross), they were just sitting on the couch and talking. Alfred sighed. "You know, I think Art might've liked that one. There was a lot of dry humor, and he loves that kind of stuff."

Matthew nodded. "You and Arthur are really getting used to living together, eh?"

Alfred shrugged. "Meh, I guess so. I mean, we've figured out our sleeping schedule and stuff, and he actually knows how to share the bathroom, so… yeah. I guess you're right." He tilted his head to one side. "Huh. I never really thought about it like that. He's just really easy to live with, yanno?"

"I wouldn't know." Matthew shrugged.

"Oh, right. Forgot about that. Well, it's just…" Alfred leaned back into the couch with a sigh. "This is sort of what I wanted to talk about earlier, actually. I mean… shit. How am I supposed to put it? I love him. Like, I _really_ love him."

"I can tell."

"It's not just that, Mattie. Sometimes, I think… I think he might be the one. I mean, don't get me wrong, we fight and all, but it's never anything bad we get over it no matter what and just… yeah. I really, really love him." Alfred picked a pillow up off the couch and squeezed it to his chest. "I just don't really know how to put it into words all fancily and shit."

Matthew nodded, though his heart felt like it might explode in his chest. He breathed in deeply, and then sighed. "If that's how you feel, you should tell him." His chest was tight as he said that, and his mind was screaming at him to shut up, but he couldn't take it back. If this was the way things were, then so be it.

"Yeah, I know I should." Alfred sighed. "But first I wanna know, how do you feel about him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Be honest. What do you think about Art?"

Matthew shrugged, avoiding looking Alfred in the eyes. "Well, I can't exactly say I'm in love with him, but he's a great guy, and you two are good for each other. I can tell you're really happy with him, and as long as he's good to you, that's all I care about."

Alfred smiled. "Thanks, Matt. I really needed to hear you say that."

"I was being honest." It was true. As much as Matthew loved to hate Arthur's guts, he also knew that Alfred really was in love with him. While he hadn't expected Alfred to find someone this soon, he would have to live with it. If Alfred was happy, then he would have to manage. He wasn't going to be selfish about this.

Alfred sat up a bit suddenly. "Man, how am I gonna tell him?"

"Hm?"

"Arthur. What am I gonna say?"

"Just say whatever pops into your head. Whatever feels right."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and we both know that'd go over _really _well. Here, lemme practice." He dropped the pillow, instead grabbing Matthew's hands in his own and raising his eyes to the ceiling. "I _luuuurve_ you and want to have butt-babies with you for the rest of my life!"

"Al!" Matthew pulled his hands away, nearly pulling Alfred on top of him, and made a face. "No!"

"Too much?"

"_Way _too much. Gross."

"What, butt-babies gross you out?"

"It's not that, it's how you said it."

Alfred grinned maliciously. "Butt-babies, butt-babies, butt-babies!" Matthew pushed him over on the couch, and he burst out laughing. "You're so awkward when it comes to talking about sex!"

"Not sex, just… _that!_"

Alfred shook his head, still giggling a bit. "Seriously though, butt-babies?"

"Cut it out."

"Aw, why? It's funny to see you make your grossed-out face."

"I am not!" Matthew realized he _was_ actually making his grossed-out face and shook his head. "It's still not funny."

"Yes, it is! But whatever."

Arthur appeared suddenly, wrapped in a bathrobe and his hair still damp, and he looked disdainfully between the two of them, rolling his eyes. "And just what are you two talking about in here?"

Alfred tilted his head back a bit, grinning cheekily at him. "Oh, nothing. Just how your old man pants make your ass look huge."

"Oh, really?" Arthur whapped Alfred on the back of the head then looked at Matthew expectantly, who put his hands over his head just in case.

"No we weren't!"

Arthur rolled his eyes again. "I believe you, Matthew." He turned to Alfred. "You, however, just enjoy antagonizing me a little too much. Anyways, I came out here to let you know that I'm going to bed soon."

"Okay, I'll be there in a few."

Matthew decided to check his phone while they were talking, since he had felt it buzz a couple minutes earlier. He read a text quickly, but apparently not quickly enough, because Alfred raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Oh-ho, expecting any calls there, Matt?"

"Not really, no."

"Did ya get a text or something?"

"Yeah…" Matthew slipped his phone back into his pocket. "So what?" Alfred waggled his eyebrows, and both Arthur and Matthew rolled their eyes. "It's not what you think, Al."

"Oh, I bet it is. Lemme see!" He reached for Matthew's pocket, and Matthew squirmed away.

"No!"

Arthur sighed. "Let him have a bit of privacy, love."

"C'mon, Artie. If it's from his boyfriend-"

"Francis is _not _my boyfriend." Matthew got off the couch, still dodging Alfred's attempt to get his phone.

"Whatever. If it's from his booty call, I wanna see!"

"Booty call," Arthur muttered, "what a positively vulgar expression."

"You betcha, hon. Well, Matt?"

"Well what?"

"Is it?"

Matthew sighed. "If I tell you, will you stop trying to steal my phone?"

"Yep!"

"Fine. It's from Francis."

Alfred grinned. "So, let me guess, you're not spending the night." Matthew didn't answer, just rolling his eyes, and Alfred laughed. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Maybe."

Alfred got up off the couch, holding his hand up for a high-five which Matthew did not return. "Whoo, go Mattie! Someone's getting laid." When Arthur and Matthew just looked at each other and shook their heads, he smirked. "C'mon, really? You two are such prudes."

"Not divulging the details of one's sex life is completely normal, Alfred."

"I'm with Arthur on this one, sorry." Matthew shrugged and looked at the clock. "Well, I guess I should probably get going about now."

"Wow, that's quick. Run to your sweetie, Matt!"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Alfred laughed, and they hugged briefly. "See ya later, dude."

"Bye."

As Matthew was leaving, Alfred smacked him on the ass and yelled after him. "Get some, dude!"

Matthew rolled his eyes, calling over his shoulder, "You too, Al." He didn't realize what he had said until the door closed behind him, at which point he smacked himself in the face. "_Not_ what I meant to say."

Now _that_ was something he really didn't need to think about. He had evidence enough of Alfred's sex life without seeing anything, and he was fully content to keep it that way. Still, as incredibly jealous as the thought made him, it was kind of hot…

Matthew rolled his eyes, mentally telling himself to shut up. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Francis' number. The other man picked up almost immediately.

"_Oui?_"

"Hi, Francis."

"Ah, Matthew. You got my message, I assume?"

"Yeah, that's why I'm calling."

"I see. Are you at home?"

"Yeah." Matthew was walking up the stairs to his apartment by then, fishing around in his pocket for the key.

"I'll be right over."

"Okay, see you soon."

"_A __bientôt, cheri."_

They hung up, and Matthew finally found his key. He let himself into his flat and kicked off his shoes, deciding to just relax until Francis showed up. He had gotten over his awkwardness about this a while ago and had instead learned to be pretty flattered that Francis chose _him_ of all people to sleep with.

He flopped down on the couch, rolling onto his back and palming the front of his pants slowly. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, a bit curious as to what Francis would want to do that time. As long as he wasn't in one of those infuriatingly teasing moods, it would definitely be a lot of fun for both of them. It usually was.

Matthew undid his pants and slipped a hand inside, rolling his hips up gently to meet it. His hands were cold, and he wished they were warmer, since it usually felt better like that. Francis had warm hands… and so did Al. Matthew froze, opening his eyes. No. He wasn't going to go there. Not when he had someone else on the way over. He pushed all thoughts of his best friend out of his head, squeezing his eyes shut again.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Matthew decided he may as well get up to answer the door, just in case it wasn't Francis after all. He didn't bother fixing his pants, just checking the peephole to make sure it actually was Francis. It was, so Matthew pulled the door open. Francis looked him up and down and smiled appreciatively, stepping into his flat.

"Somebody seems ready." He took off his shirt and shoes at the same time, then stepped forward to pull Matthew's shirt over his head. When both of them were shirtless, he ran his hands over Matthew's shoulders and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "Beautiful, as always."

"Nowhere near as much as you, Francis."

Francis smiled, running a hand down Matthew's arm. "Always such a flatterer." He took Matthew's hand, his other hand slipping into Matthew's pants. "Well, lead the way. You decide tonight." He squeezed Matthew through his underpants, and Matthew could feel himself get harder, both at the words and at the fingers on his cock.

He kissed Francis briefly, nipping the Frenchman's lip as he pulled away. "Bedroom." They stripped at they walked there, and Matthew let his hands roam over Francis' hips and arse, surprised when he pressed a finger against Francis' entrance and found it already slick. "Did you…?"

"I didn't want to wait. Also, I wanted to bottom tonight." Francis shrugged, putting an arm around Matthew's waist as they stood beside the bed. "Is that so bad?"

Matthew shook his head. "No, it's… it makes this easier."

Francis pushed him down on the bed, climbed over him, and kissed his ear, murmuring, "Is it just my imagination or do you sound disappointed? You actually like having your fingers inside of me?" He took a hair elastic from around his wrist, pulling his hair back out of his face.

"Uh…"

"Don't be shy. If you want to, go ahead." Francis wiggled his hips, sticking his ass out a bit. Matthew slid a finger inside of him, stroking his insides carefully until Francis moaned, "Ah… Matthew…"

"I know." Matthew pushed another finger inside, and he felt his cock throb a bit when Francis moved his hips back, taking his fingers further in. Francis smirked, his eyes half-lidded, and Matthew decided he didn't want to wait any longer either. He pulled his finger out, fishing around in his bedside table for a condom with his other hand. When he got one out, he passed it to Francis and put his hands on Francis' hips. "Ride me."

"Of course," Francis replied, rolling the condom onto Matthew's member and lining Matthew up with his entrance. He let himself slip down, taking Matthew inside all at once, and he moaned. Matthew let his eyes slip shut, tightening his grip on Francis' hips. Damn, he was tight. True, Francis didn't bottom very often, but when he did…

Matthew opened his eyes when Francis' hands landed on his chest, and he sat up a little, leaning forward to connect their lips. There were nights when Francis wouldn't kiss him, when he would barely touch Matthew at all except to fuck him or be fucked by him, but this wasn't one of those nights. Francis actually moaned softly against Matthew's lips, pulling him up so he was sitting upright and coaxing Matthew's tongue into his mouth.

He started moving, lifting himself up and down, and Matthew groaned into Francis' mouth. Fuck, it felt good. He hoped it was enough to distract him from what he and Alfred had talked about earlier that night. He didn't want to think about the possibility that Alfred could actually marry Arthur, that he would never get a chance to tell Al how he really felt, let alone get a chance to ever be with him. Matthew didn't want to think about any of that, didn't want thoughts of his best friend to find their way into his head, but they did.

He couldn't help but wonder, what would sex with Al be like? When Francis wrapped his arms around Matthew's neck and kissed him, he kissed back, wondering if Alfred would be this affectionate. When Francis moaned quietly in his ear, he wondered, would Al be more or less vocal? When he felt Francis tighten around him, he wondered, how tight would Al be? Would he be experienced, would he be shy? Just how hot and slick and tight around his cock would Al be?

Matthew started rocking his hips up as Francis moved down, his eyes slipping shut again with pleasure. He leaned his head against Francis' shoulder, starting to lose himself in the pleasure, getting close to reaching that tipping point, shaking a little with the effort of holding himself back. He knew he was moaning into Francis' shoulder, nonsensical sounds that even he couldn't decipher the meaning of. But his brain decided to be coherent at last, and before Matthew could figure out what he was saying, he whispered, "Oh, Al…"

Francis stopped moving, pulling Matthew's head away from his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

Oh, shit. _Fuck._ Matthew put a hand over his face, looking off to the side. "Oh my god."

"Did you just say-"

"Yeah." Matthew couldn't look Francis in the eyes. Sure, they weren't actually together or anything, but it still wasn't nice to have the person you were sleeping with call out someone else's name.

Francis shrugged. "We'll talk later. Right now…" he rocked his hips slightly. "We aren't done."

"Yeah."

Francis started moving again, and Matthew bit his lip, feeling his member throb, so close to bursting. He tried to focus on Francis, how unfairly sexy he was when he tipped his head back in pleasure, how he would start to lose his grasp of the English language when he was about to come, and any words were replaced by breathy whispers of French that only brought Matthew closer to the edge. Francis tightened around him as he came, crying out his release, his abs tightening as he spilled himself over both of them. Matthew thrust up a couple more times and finally let go, holding back his voice just in case. He didn't want to say anything else he might regret.

When they were both done cleaning up and had put their clothes back on, they sat at the end of the bed. Francis sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "So."

"So…?"

"You said 'Al', yes?"

"Yeah." Matthew stared down at his feet, and Francis sighed again.

"I can only assume that you mean your friend Alfred."

"Yeah."

"You're in love with him, that much I already know."

"Yeah." Matthew looked up, happy to find that Francis wasn't glaring at him, but instead looked a bit pitying.

The Frenchman shrugged. "He's taken, _non?_"

"Yeah. And it's serious."

"Not just a fling?"

"No. Definitely not. I'm talking possible marriage."

"Ah, I see." Francis shook his head. "And he's too happy for you to break it up."

"Yeah. They're good for each other."

"I understand." Francis took one of Matthew's hands. "I've been in your position before."

"And what happened?"

"I gave up and moved on. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but… what's done is done."

"Oh." Matthew pushed his glasses up his nose and sighed. "I'm sorry, by the way."

"Hm?"

"For… you know…"

Francis smiled and shook his head. "There's nothing to apologise for."

"But-"

"Don't worry about it, _cher._ We're not in love or pretending to be, so it doesn't matter. It's just sex." He shrugged. "I was a little surprised, yes, but that's it."

"Okay." Matthew forced a smile. "I still feel kind of bad about it."

Francis let go of his hand, stretching his arms above his head. "Don't. I don't mind, really. In fact, I have a proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition?"

"Don't look at me like that, Matthew." Francis laughed. "It's nothing bad, I promise you."

"Okay, I'm listening."

"_Bon,_ I was thinking, since you can't exactly be with the one you love…" Francis shrugged. "If you like, when we're together, you can pretend I'm him. Just let me know when you want to, _d'accord?_"

Matthew thought for a moment, letting that sink in. "You're saying you're okay with me imagining you're Al when we…?"

"_Oui_, that's what I said. Like I said, I really don't mind."

Matthew could feel himself blush. That was a _really_ tempting idea, but… "I'll think about it."

"All right, just let me what you decide." Francis stood up. "I'm going to have a shower."

"Okay."

When Francis left the room, Matthew sighed, laying back on his bed and looking up at the ceiling. He wanted to take Francis up on his offer, but at the same time, it would probably make him feel kind of guilty. Still, it didn't have to be all the time, right? Just when he was feeling really down. Matthew sighed, shaking his head and smiling a bit. It looked like he now had a new thing to add to the list of secrets he kept from Alfred, which was just a little bit longer than he would have liked.

Really, even Antonio and Gilbert knew he was in love with Al. Arthur knew it too. Of all the people in his life, Alfred seemed to be the only person who _didn't_ know, and sometimes that was beyond infuriating. Matthew stood up, deciding to join Francis in the shower to let him know that yes, he would definitely accept his proposition. No one else had to know about _this, _at least.

* * *

_Yep, I went there. Heh. Um, so… as always, thanks for reading! _


	4. Chapter 3

_Hello again, everyone! Been a while, I know, but... life happened. And prepare for some rather extensive angst. Thought I'd let you know._

* * *

The next week started out normally. Work was typical, Lovino still refusing to behave even with Antonio cheerfully threatening to kick his ass. Of course, Toni was nowhere near as effective as Gilbert at that sort of thing, so that much didn't really surprise Matthew…

Anyways, he got his extra work done at home, and when he and Alfred were both free, they hung out (at Matthew's this time, since Arthur was being grumpy. Alfred chalked it up to him being on his 'man-period,' which _really_ didn't help). They ordered takeout and just talked about stuff until it was late enough for Arthur to text Alfred to get his arse home, which – much to Matthew's secret delight – he ignored and instead crashed at Matt's.

The next day, Matthew was checking his email while he ate dinner, and his phone buzzed. He rolled his eyes, swallowing a mouthful of his chicken before answering. "Hello?"

"Matthew?"

"Yeah, it's me." It was Alfred's mother. She usually didn't call this late, so Matthew immediately wondered what was going on. "What is it?"

"Well… are you at home?"

"Yes, I am. Why? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"Yes, s-something's very wrong. I… well, Mr. Jones is…"

Matthew pushed his food away, prepared for the worst. "I'm listening. What's going on?"

"He—there's been an accident at his work. He's at the local hospital right now, and I'm here too. We…" she trailed off into a quiet sob. "He's in critical condition, and they don't think he'll make it. I just called Al, and I need you two to get here as soon as you can."

Matthew let that sink in, sighing shakily. "It's that bad?"

"Yes, that bad. And I know he and Al haven't had the best father-son relationship, but…"

"I understand. I promise I'll get Al there. Hold on a little longer, okay? Both of you."

"Thank you, Matt."

"Yeah. I'm going to go now, I have to get Al. I'm on my way right now." He hung up, slipping on his shoes, grabbing his keys, and running out the door. He pretty much sprinted out of his building and over to Alfred's, running up the stairs and throwing open the door to the apartment. "Al, are you in here?"

Alfred was sitting on the couch, staring at the phone and looking rather shell-shocked. "Yeah, I'm here. But I don't get it. Dad's-"

"In the hospital. Come on, we have to go!" Matthew dragged him off the couch. "Get your shoes."

Arthur came out of the bedroom. "What's going-"

"Al's dad is in the hospital. _We _have to go. If you're tagging along, then hurry up and get ready. Al, we're taking your car. Give me the keys, I know where we're going." Arthur stood there, just looking back and forth between Alfred and Matthew as Matt took Alfred's keys and shoved his shoes into his hands, feeling extremely rushed, almost panicked. "Come _on,_ Al! We don't have time for this! And Arthur, either get out the door or stay here. I really don't give a shit either way."

…

In the end, Arthur ended up staying at the apartment as Alfred and Matthew drove the half-hour to their hometown, Matthew speeding as much as he could get away with. It wasn't much later that he was dragging a still-dazed Alfred through the hospital corridors, reading the signs by the doors until he reached the right room number. He took a deep breath to calm himself down and opened the door, hoping nothing too bad awaited them on the other side.

Alfred's father smiled weakly at them from the bed. "And the boys are here. Together, as usual."

"Of course we are." Matthew guided Alfred into the room and closed the door behind them, giving Mrs. Jones a quick hug as he approached the bed.

"You made it," she whispered, and Matthew nodded briefly.

"I said we would, didn't I?" Matthew squeezed her hand gently, and she smiled through the film of tears on her eyes. Matthew cast a glance at Mr. Jones, frowning when he saw all the machines he was hooked up to. It didn't look good.

Alfred stepped forward next, taking his dad's hand and asking, "Dad, what happened?"

Mr. Jones coughed, a strained, painful cough. "A pipe blew in the plant. You know we have pipes full of phosgene all over the place? Well, one of them finally corroded enough that it pretty much exploded all over a group of us." He cleared his throat, swallowing and then wincing. "I managed to get everyone else out in time, but not myself. And now I'm suffocating on my own lungs, and there's nothing the doctors can do."

Matthew closed his eyes. So he really was dying. Alfred breathed in shakily. "So you're…"

"I'm a goner. I just wanted to see my boy one last time. Well, both of my boys." He gestured for Matthew to come closer. "Matt, you know you're part of the family."

"Yeah. I know." Matthew had to force it out, his voice getting caught in his throat, coming out as little more than a whisper.

"Take care of Al for me. I know you're both all grown up, but you've always been the sensible one." Matthew smiled sadly, nodding. Mr. Jones continued, "Tell him I'm sorry I wasn't the best dad. I could've been more understanding, more accepting. Tell him I wish I could've been there for him more than I was. Tell him I-" he broke off, coughing for a minute before clearing his throat and trying again. "Tell him I love him. He's my baby boy, always has been, and I love him. And you, take care of yourself. I love you too, Matt."

"I know. You've always been like an uncle to me, or a second dad, and…" Matthew searched for words, giving up when Alfred put a hand on his arm and instead biting his lip. "I love you too." Matthew saw Mrs. Jones wipe her eyes, trying to hide the fact that she was crying, and he stood up. "We'll give you a moment alone." He motioned for Alfred to come with him, and they both left the room. As soon as he closed the door, he opened his arms, letting Alfred lean on him.

"Matt, he's-"

"I know."

"All those machines and wires… and he's on morphine. They know he won't make it."

"I know."

"And he just…"

"I know." Matthew wrapped his arms around Alfred, placing a hand on the back of Alfred's head and rocking him back and forth slowly. "But he's not gone just yet. He still has a little while. And you heard what he said."

"Yeah." Alfred wiped his eyes on Matthew's shirt. "Of all the fucking times to apologize…"

"I know." Matthew waited there, holding Alfred gingerly, worried his friend might completely break down, but he didn't. Instead, a couple minutes later, Mrs. Jones opened the door again.

"Okay. Come on in."

Matthew could tell right away that Mr. Jones was on his way out; his chest struggled to rise with each breath he took, and the air gurgled in his throat when he exhaled. They sat down beside the bed, neither Alfred nor Matthew daring to speak. The moment seemed frozen in time, dangling from a delicate string that could snap at any moment. Alfred took his father's hand, his free hand slipping into Matthew's automatically. The quiet beeping of the heart monitor was the only other sound in the room apart from Mr. Jones' laboured breathing.

Alfred clenched his jaw and squeezed Matthew's hand. Matthew could tell he was trying his hardest to keep his composure. "I'm gonna miss you, Dad," he breathed, softly enough that it barely broke the silence that pervaded the room.

"I know, Al. I'll miss you too. All of you." Mr. Jones nodded at them all. Mrs. Jones turned away, hiding her face again, but her husband took her hand. "Sweetie, look at me."

She wiped her eyes with her free hand. "S-sorry. I just…" she shook her head. "Twenty-nine years of marriage, and I'm not ready for it to end yet."

"I know. I wanted to make it to fifty years together."

She smiled weakly, and Matthew had to look away, feeling his eyes fill with tears. He bit his lower lip slightly to stop it from trembling. Alfred cleared his throat quietly. "Dad, I'm sorry." He squeezed Matthew's hand almost painfully tight, and Matthew looked back over at him. He was shaking a bit, holding back tears, his jaw clenched. "I'm sorry I wasn't a better son."

"You've got nothing to apologize for, Al. You're a great man, and you were a great boy." Mr. Jones nodded at him and then at Matthew. "Be happy. Both of you. Whatever it takes, be happy."

Matthew forced a smile, still fighting to keep his eyes dry. He couldn't let himself cry, not when Al's mother was so devastated, not when Al's eyes had a thin layer of tears over them. "Of course."

Mr. Jones turned to his wife. "Sweetie, I'll wait for you on the other side." His breathing was getting weaker and weaker, to the point that he could barely speak anymore. He closed his mouth and leaned his head back on the pillow, struggling to get air into his lungs.

The beeps from the heart monitor slowed until there were no steady pulses, just a flat line and a horrible, screeching beep that resounded through the hospital room. Alfred's mother burst into tears, and Alfred squeezed his father's hand one last time. "Dad…" he murmured, then dropped his hand. "Dad?"

Matthew put his arm around Alfred's shoulder and held him close, not saying anything. Alfred looked panicked for a moment, staring wide-eyed, and Matthew shook his head sadly. Mrs. Jones covered her face with her hands as a nurse came into the room, and Alfred stood up. He walked over to his mother and hugged her, letting her cry on his shoulder. No one had anything to say, they were all too shocked and sad to come up with anything.

Matthew and Alfred left shortly afterwards, Matthew driving home. He didn't think he could trust Al to drive safely, especially since he barely trusted himself right then. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, dialing Gilbert's number. His boss picked up almost away, but he sounded tired and irritated. "Matt, do you know what time it is? You better have a good reason for calling this late."

"I won't be coming into work tomorrow, Gil." Matthew spoke softly, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke, but he doubted he was able to.

"What's wrong?" Gilbert's voice dropped its annoyed tone immediately, instead sounding worried.

"An old friend of mine just passed away. I'll need a few days."

"I understand. I'll let everyone know, don't worry." He heard Gilbert clear his throat on the other line. "I'm sorry. And was it…?"

"No. He's here with me right now."

"Oh. Okay, good. I mean, not good, but…"

"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Gil. I'll talk to you later." He hung up, putting his phone down.

Alfred let out a shaky sigh, the first sound he had made since they got in the car. He took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes for a second before putting them back on. "I can't believe it. He's gone. We're never going to see Dad again."

Matthew just nodded, knowing Alfred didn't need him to speak.

"I'm still in denial. He can't be dead, but he is. Oh god, what are we gonna do?"

Matthew took one of his hands off of the steering wheel, resting in on Alfred's leg. "I don't know, Al." He tried to focus on driving, knowing he couldn't let it affect him until he got home. When he pulled into Alfred's usual parking spot and they both got out of the car, Arthur came out of the lobby and pulled Alfred into a hug right away. Matthew nodded at him, and then spoke to Alfred. "Do you want me to come in?"

"I'll be okay, I think."

Matthew nodded. "If you need anything, call. I'll be there."

…

He waited until he was in his apartment, the door safely closed behind him, to let it hit him. The man he had looked up to his whole life, the man who always took Alfred and him fishing or camping, the man who had given him so much over the years and he had loved like an uncle… was dead. Matthew sank down into the couch heavily, staring down at his feet. His eyes filled with tears as he felt the sadness tug at his heart, the injustice of it all. He let the tears fall freely now, not having to be a rock for Alfred or his mom, free to let himself feel everything he had felt from the moment he got that phone call. Shock, panic, anger, disbelief, and despair. This was the first person really close to him that he had lost, and it hurt more than he thought it would.

It felt like someone had torn a chunk out of his chest, but a little voice in the back of his head whispered, a_t least it wasn't Al._ He sighed, knowing he wouldn't have been able to handle this if it had been Al. Still, he let everything sink in, not forcing any thoughts out of his mind, and soon he was shaking with the effort of crying. He didn't know how long he sat there; staring out the window and wondering if he would run out of tears to cry, but eventually his phone rang. He picked it up, wiping his eyes.

"Yeah?" his voice was thick with emotion, but he knew there was no way of stopping that.

"Matthew? It's Arthur. I think… well, you should get over here. Alfred needs you."

"Right."

Matthew grabbed his keys and walked over. When got to the apartment, he found Alfred curled up in a ball on the couch, crying quietly. Matthew nodded at Arthur, who had opened the door for him, and walked over to the couch. He sat down and pulled Alfred into a sitting position, then took off both of their glasses. He didn't say anything, knowing he didn't have to. Alfred latched onto him, his arms tight around his neck and his face buried in Matthew's chest.

"Matt…"

"Yeah. I'm here." Matthew held Alfred close, patting him gently on the back. "You don't have to say anything."

"Yes, I do." Alfred moved his face back a bit to talk to him. "You know what the last thing I said to Dad before tonight was? I told him that I hated him, that he was a horrible father for never learning to just accept who I am. And now he's dead."

"Shh. You heard what he said tonight. And you said what you felt."

"But still…"

"At least we got a chance to say goodbye. He held on for you, I think. He wanted to see you again." Matthew let himself cry as he spoke, but tried to keep his voice steady. "And he wanted you to be happy. Not right away, I know, but… he wants you to do whatever will make you happy. I think… I think in the end, he decided that he didn't want you trying to change who you are just because of him."

Alfred sighed, leaning on Matthew more, resting his head on his shoulder, and Matt gently stroked his hair. "I guess you're right."

"Yeah." Matthew saw Arthur standing off to the side. One part of him wanted to be selfish, to tell Arthur to go away and leave Alfred with him, that Arthur couldn't understand what Al was going through. But another part of him wanted to tell Arthur to come sit down, that he and Alfred would have to help each other through things like this if they actually got married, and he may as well start learning now. He was torn between the two, but he decided to do the right thing. "Arthur, come here."

Arthur sat down on the opposite side of Alfred, who turned around and hugged him. Arthur pressed a kiss to Alfred's hair, gently rubbing his back and looking at Matthew as if to ask, 'Am I doing this right?'

Matthew nodded, patting Alfred on the shoulder, letting his hand linger there for a moment, and then he stood up. Rather, tried to stand up. As soon as his feet hit the floor, Alfred looked over his shoulder. "Where're you going?"

"Home. It looks like Arthur's got you now."

Alfred took Matthew's hand and held onto it. "Stay."

"Al, Arthur's right there. You're all right."

He wanted to leave them, give them privacy, since sitting there felt like a violation of some intimate act, but Alfred shook his head, his eyes pleading with Matthew. "I need you to stay."

Matthew caved. He couldn't leave when Alfred looked at him like that. He sat back down, kicking of his shoes and pulling his feet up under him. He scooted close to Alfred, leaning against his back slightly. Matthew couldn't see Al's face anymore, but Arthur just looked perplexed and worried.

Matthew just sighed and placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder, squeezing lightly. He was drained, the evening's events having sapped all his energy. He leaned his head against Alfred's back, feeling his eyes trying to tear up again, though he didn't have anything left to cry. So he closed them, tired and ready to sleep, his face pressed into the back of the man he loved, the man who still needed him to get through something like this.

…

When he woke up the next morning, his arms were wrapped around Alfred's torso and the other man had somehow ended up halfway in his lap. Matthew smelled coffee, and when he blinked himself awake and stifled a yawn, Arthur came over with a mug full of hot coffee for him. He didn't say anything, just nodded and pressed it into Matthew's hands.

Arthur woke Alfred up next, kissing him tenderly on the forehead and brushing the hair out of his eyes, murmuring, "Wake up, love."

Alfred stirred, mumbling something and kissing along Arthur's face until he connected their lips, and Matthew looked away, taking a sip of coffee. Arthur passed Alfred a cup of coffee as well, and it was only then that Matthew looked at the clock, surprised by how late it was. He scooted out from underneath Alfred, speaking to Arthur. "You're taking a day off?"

"Well, more or less. The only thing I really had on tab for today was a conference call, and that was at eight this morning. I don't need to be in the office this afternoon."

"Okay. Good."

Arthur looked a little surprised. "Good?"

Alfred yawned, gulping down his coffee. "I'm gonna take a shower, 'kay?" Arthur and Matthew both nodded, so he just got off the couch and left the room.

Matthew waited until he was out of the room to start talking again. "It's good because you can stay and take care of Al."

"You're not staying today?"

"Not unless I'm sure Al really needs me here." Matthew picked up his glasses and put them on. "You're his boyfriend, after all."

"Yes, and you're his _best _friend."

Matthew sighed. "I know that, but you're the one he's in love with. He just doesn't need me like that."

"But he does need you." Arthur sat down. "I know it's not in the same way, but he loves you too. And I'm certain that if it ever came to it, he'd choose you over me in a heartbeat. I'd never put him in that position, of course."

Matthew ran a hand through his hair. "I know. And I'd never put him through that either. But I really have to change that. He has to start needing you more than he needs me, if you two are really serious about this." He sighed, murmuring, "It hurts too much the way it is right now."

Arthur cleared his throat quietly. "Look, I know you've been in love with Alfred for a very long time-"

"Yeah, you and everyone else."

"Anyways, I wanted to thank you."

Matthew was a bit confused, to say the least. "What do you mean?"

"For not breaking us up, or even trying to. If anything, you've helped bring us closer together, though it's quite clear you don't like me."

"It's not you, believe me. I've felt like this about every guy that Al's dated. You're one of the more bearable."

"Oh. Well, that makes me feel a bit better."

Matthew shrugged. "I just want him to be happy. I don't think I could hurt him if I tried."

"And that's why he needs you. He just lost his father, and you know exactly what to say while I'm fairly clueless." Arthur sighed. "Mr. Jones and I never got along very well, I'm afraid, so I don't exactly know what he was like when he wasn't angry."

Matthew smirked. "He was that way with all of Al's boyfriends too."

"Glad to know it's not just me." Arthur sighed. "But you grew up knowing Alfred's father, so…"

Matthew nodded. "Yeah. But the thing is, I'm not always going to be around for him. I can't wait around and hope forever. Especially now."

"What do you mean?"

"You two are… well, I've never seen Al happier than when you're around. So… I'm just starting to try to get used to the idea that you two might be together. Permanently."

Arthur smiled. "And I've never seen him happier than when _you're_ around, Matthew."

"It's different, though."

"Yes, it is different." Arthur stood up and picked Alfred's glasses up off the coffee table, wiping them clean with his shirt. "I'll say this much: I love Alfred dearly, enough that I'll do whatever's best for him. If he wants us to get married, I'll happily arrange the whole thing. If he wants us to stay as we are now, I'll go along with that. I'm not going to push you out of his life, either. You're too important to him, and I couldn't put him through that kind of pain. Besides, you're a better friend than most people could ever hope for. But I'm not going to leave Alfred unless he wants me to, or unless I'm certain there's someone he'd be happier with."

Matthew nodded. "I understand." He stood up, taking his coffee mug to the kitchen.

Arthur came with him and leaned on the counter. "Stay here today. Please."

"Hm?"

"Alfred still needs you here. I can tell."

Matthew smiled a bit. "Okay." He looked towards the bathroom, where Alfred was now stepping out with a towel around his shoulders. "And if you can tell that, maybe you'll do all right after all," he murmured. He nodded at Alfred, speaking a little louder. "Any hot water left?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll go shower now. And Al?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm borrowing your clothes, okay?"

"Yeah."

Matthew paused in the doorway of the bathroom, putting an arm around Alfred's shoulders and kissing him on the temple. "Go eat something, all right? I know you probably don't want to, but you should."

"Yeah."

"Al."

"Yeah?"

"Say something other than 'yeah,' will you?"

"No." Alfred smiled weakly, and Matthew had to smile back, no matter how fake both their smiles were.

"Thanks."

When he was done showering and had gotten dressed, Matthew went back to the living room. Alfred and Arthur were sitting together on the couch and talking softly, Alfred leaning his head on Arthur's shoulder. Arthur stroked his hair gently, murmuring something that Matthew couldn't quite make out but that made Alfred smile a little. He didn't want to interrupt them, so he slipped into the kitchen as quietly as he could, grabbing a pear out of the fruit bowl on the counter. He would deal with having warm fruit if he didn't have to bother them. That and he wanted to hear what they were talking about.

He sat down at the kitchen table, pulling a chair out without scraping it across the floor, and as soon as he took a bite out of the pear he heard Alfred ask, "Hey, where's Matt, anyways?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's getting dressed. Lucky for him, you two are similar in size, so it shouldn't be too difficult for him to find something to wear."

"Yeah, we trade clothes a lot. You know that green shirt I wear sometimes that you really like? That's his."

"Is it? Well, he has better taste in clothing than you."

"Hey, be nice. What were you guys talking about earlier, by the way?"

"Oh, nothing."

"It had to be something. Tell or I'll ask him."

"We were talking about you, love."

"What about me?"

"How pesky and nosy you are."

"Hey. Not funny."

"I know. Sorry. We were talking about your friendship."

"Oh, okay. Hey, do you know if he's actually _with_ that Francis guy? I mean, he says they're just friends who sleep together and all, but they go out for drinks and stuff so I kind of wonder…"

"That's something you should ask him, not me."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Alfred paused, and Matthew heard him sigh. "Hey, Art?"

"What is it, love?"

"Can you go grab a box of tissues?"

"Right away."

Arthur stood up, and as soon as he left the room, Matthew stood up and tossed his pear into the garbage. He went to sit on the couch, and found Alfred wiping his eyes with one hand, his glasses in the other. Matthew took his glasses and Alfred mumbled, "Thanks, Matt." He blinked. "Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Matt."

"Right here."

Alfred sighed and leaned against him. "Matt."

Matthew put an arm around him. "I'm here."

"Sorry."

"What?"

"For crying on you so much."

Matthew set Alfred's glasses down and hugged him properly. "That's a dumb reason to apologise and you know it."

"Okay."

Matthew leaned his head on Alfred's shoulder, his eyes tearing up again. Arthur reappeared with a box of tissues and sat down gingerly next to Matthew, placing it on the coffee table. He didn't say anything, but a moment later he went to the hall closet and got a blanket, which he draped over Alfred and Matthew.

Al smiled weakly, and Arthur sat down and took his hand. "I got a phone call from your mother earlier, love. I thought I'd tell you now."

"How did she sound?"

"Quite sad, but that's to be expected. Your parents were there with her, Matthew."

Matthew nodded. "Good. Our moms were always really close. So, what'd she say?"

Arthur hesitated. "Well… she's been trying to figure out funeral plans. You'll be going, yes?"

Alfred nodded. "Well, yeah. Of course I will. Do you want to come too?"

"If you want me there, then yes."

"Okay." Alfred sighed. "I never thought I'd be going to a relative's funeral this young. I mean, my grandparents are all gone or in nursing homes, but…"

"Your father was still quite young."

"Yeah, if you count fifty-five as young." He sighed again, and Matthew leaned his head against Al's. "You know," Alfred murmured, "I kinda hope they're gonna bury him in the town cemetery."

"They probably will," Matthew reassured him. "I mean, our parents have lived next to each other for over twenty-five years. They're pretty attached to the town by now, I'd say."

"Yeah." Alfred wiped his nose. "I should probably talk to Mom soon. You too, Matt, and we should talk to your parents."

"I know." Matthew went to stand up to get the phone, but Arthur beat him to it, hopping off the couch right away.

"Don't bother, I'll get it."

He was surprisingly good at this, Matthew realised, and that was possibly a good thing. He settled back into the couch, taking Alfred's hand, wishing there was some way to make it all better, and knowing there wasn't. He could only help Alfred so much, and if he was obviously grieving as well, it wasn't very comforting. Arthur could help Al in ways Matthew couldn't, and he didn't know whether to be relieved or jealous.

…

The next day, he went into work, surprising everyone who had heard about what happened. Gilbert pulled him aside at one point, away from where anyone else would hear them. He shook his head and sighed. Matthew had told him that it was Al's father who had died, and Gilbert seemed pretty concerned about him. "Matt, what are you doing here? I thought you needed time off."

"I do, but I need something to keep me busy. I can't just sit at home alone, it's not…" he shrugged. "It just doesn't feel right. I can't."

"Then go stay with Al."

"I did that yesterday. He's got Arthur with him, he'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay then. If you say so. But if you're going to work, then work well. I'll send you home if you can't focus, all right?" True, Gilbert was incredibly irresponsible, loud, and a bit too fond of beer, but at the end of the day, he was German and wanted to keep things efficient.

Matthew nodded. "I understand. Well, I'll get back to work."

"_Ja,_ me too. And Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Al I'm sorry, okay? I know there's not much anyone can really do, but…"

"I know. And I'll tell him."

Matthew shut himself in his office, working on data spreadsheets, the only thing his emotionally exhausted brain was capable of doing properly. Toni and Lovino stopped by at separate times, Antonio to see how he was doing and to bring him some churros, and Lovino to ask him for help. Matthew was surprised by how cooperative Lovino was, and he figured someone had told him what had happened. That didn't really bother him, though.

The day was slow, and Matthew had to struggle not to stare out the window and cry. He had to stop what he was doing several times and just wait for it to pass. It was during one of these uncontrollable bouts of emotion that a knock came on his door. So he cleared his throat, calling out, "Come in."

"_Bonjour_, Matthew. Though I suppose it really isn't a good day." It was Francis.

Matthew shook his head. "No, it's not good at all."

Francis set a thermos of coffee down on his desk and nodded at it. "For you. Gilbert told me what happened, so…"

"Yeah." Matthew nodded. "Thanks for the coffee."

"It was nothing, really. Just doing what I hoped might help." He kissed Matthew on both cheeks, a gesture he had only done once before: when Matthew had admitted he was in love with Alfred. "I'm sorry," Francis murmured, "I just wish there was something I could do to help. If you need anything…"

Matthew shook his head. "I just need time."

"Time heals all wounds, they say. That's not quite true, but time can take away some of the pain." He laid a hand on Matthew's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I'll leave you to your work now. But really, if you need anything, just call. Friends help each other any way they can."

"Thanks, Francis."

"Again, it's nothing. Just take care of yourself, Matthew. I know how much this kind of thing hurts. And make sure you're there for Alfred, too. He probably needs you more right now than you think."

"I will. To both of those."

"_Bien._ Well, I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Bye."

"_Au revoir, mon ami_." Francis smiled gently at him before leaving, closing Matthew's office door quietly behind him.

…

Everyone was being so gentle with him, so nice that Matthew almost felt like he needed someone to tell him to stop being a wimp and get over it. And, about a week after the funeral, Alfred admitted the same thing to Matthew. They were just sitting on the couch at Matthew's, playing video games, when Alfred sighed.

"Everyone at work's been treating me with kid gloves since Dad died. They're all like, 'take your time' and shit like that. I kinda want someone to tell me to stop being such a pussy, but people are just too nice."

"Well, I'm not going to be the one to tell you that."

"Why not?"

"I haven't noticed you acting any wimpier than usual. Sadder, yes, but that's it."

"If I can prove I'm being a pussy, will you?"

"Maybe. But you have to be honest, no making anything up."

"Yeah, of course." Alfred leaned back into the couch. "Well… to start, I won't let Arthur see me cry."

"That's normal. You don't want him to worry about you any more than he has to."

"Okay then, I can't look at any pictures of Dad without wanting to cry."

"Also normal."

"Man. Um… I feel guilty for having fun."

"Normal."

"I don't feel like eating."

"Normal."

"Jeez, so all this wimpy crap is normal?"

"Pretty much, yep."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Grief turns everyone into pussies."

"I can't argue with you there." Matthew sighed. "I know it sucks, but it's also kind of nice that people are being considerate."

"Yeah, I guess. Still, I feel like telling them that I'm not gonna break down and cry if someone talks about death or their dad. I'm not _that _bad. Besides, I don't cry in front of people. It sucks, so I try to hide it. I mean, not even Arthur should have to deal with that." He paused. "Well, I suppose I cry in front of you, but that's different."

Matthew glanced over at Alfred. What did it mean, that Al would willingly cry in front of him, but not in front of Arthur? He decided not to dwell on it too much. Alfred sighed, scooting closer to him, and Matthew raised his eyebrows. "What is it?"

"There's something I didn't mention. But don't freak out or anything, okay?"

"Okay…" Now what was all this about? "What is it?"

Alfred turned a little bit pink, lowering his voice even though it was just the two of them in Matthew's apartment. "Since Dad died, I haven't… you know." He jerked his head to one side, and Matthew tilted his head a bit.

"Masturbated?"

"Well… anything like that. I mean, I'm pretty sure crying during sex is an intense mood killer, so…"

Matthew smiled, looking up at the ceiling. "Hey, Al?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a pussy."

Alfred stared at him for a couple seconds before laughing and punching him on the arm. "Dude, you perv!" He paused, and then asked, much softer, "How long ago…?"

"Yesterday. And before you ask, I was alone."

"Well, crying while jerking off is probably a little less embarrassing…"

"Just try that first."

"Yeah." Alfred smirked. "Art's gonna be _real_ happy if he comes home to that."

"I'm sure he'd understand."

"Yeah, you're probably right." He shrugged, and Matthew could tell he wanted to say something. He could sort of guess what Al was about to say, so he decided to just get it over with.

"No, you are _not_ coming over to my place to do that."

"Aw, come on!"

"No. And great word choice, by the way."

Alfred smirked. "Okay, I kind of walked right into that one. And seriously, why not?"

"Because it's awkward! I don't want to hear it, or even think about it, okay?"

"Not like it'd be the first time or anything."

Matthew sighed, putting a hand over his eyes. "I'm never taking a U.V. light into the guest bedroom. I don't need to know."

Alfred laughed quietly, and Matthew had to smile to himself. It was good to see him recovering so quickly. Obviously it would take some time before they were both mostly back to normal, but if they recovered at the same rate (as they usually did), they could help each other through whatever happened. They smiled at each other, and Matthew felt his heart skip a beat as he was reminded of yet another reason why he loved Al so much. No matter what happened, they were always there to cheer each other up.

But still, he felt he had to start distancing himself from Al bit by bit. Alfred seemed to rely on Matthew much more than he did on Arthur for everything, and Matthew had a feeling that it could be a bad thing. As much as he didn't want to push Al away, he felt that he had to. He knew damn well that his friendship with Alfred had been the cause of many breakups for the both of them, and he knew that Arthur wasn't fully comfortable with it either, even though he tried to be understanding. It would hurt him to pull away from Alfred, but in the end it might just ease some of the pain whenever he thought about how he couldn't tell Al how he felt about him. Maybe as time went on, Matthew thought, he'd be able to actually fall out of love with Al, as impossible as it seemed. And as Alfred left for the night, giving Matthew a hug at the door, holding onto him for longer than usual and rocking back and forth a little, Matthew realised just how impossible it really seemed.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 4

_So, this early update comes to you in celebration of **Lo Lovely**'s birthday! I haven't done a gift update in a while, mostly because I get behind schedule in my writing, but this time it actually worked out! Happy birthday, and I hope it's a good one! My present to you: angst, angst, angst. Yep._

_Thank you to everyone for the kind reviews! It really helps to know you're liking this story so far. I'm sticking with it, so don't worry!_

* * *

A few more weeks passed, and everything went back to normal. Well, mostly back to normal. Alfred was being abnormally clingy, and Matthew just assumed it was because he wasn't yet over his father's death. To tell the truth, Matthew still wasn't over it either. Sometimes he would see or hear something that reminded him of Al's dad, and he'd feel a lump form in his chest, his heart sinking a little bit. Arthur was being quite understanding of the whole thing, and Matthew was grateful that he wasn't pushing Alfred to forget his father's death.

But he could see a flash of _something_, some kind of normally hidden emotion, in Arthur's eyes if Alfred clung to Matthew a little too tightly when Matt was going home for the evening, or if Alfred leaned a little too close to him while they were playing video games. That had actually caused them to bonk heads at one point, and pretty painfully at that. But Matthew didn't think anything of it, chalking it up to Arthur being a bit uneasy about Alfred being so physically close to him. He went about life as he normally would, though slowly trying to have Alfred rely less on him with each passing day.

One night, he ate dinner at Al's and got ready to leave, after getting a text from Gilbert. "Sorry Al, but I better go now. The guys are out tonight, and no one trusts Gil to be the designated driver, even if it's his turn."

"Oh, so it's your three carpool buddies?"

"Yep. I won't be out too late, we'll want to get out of there before all the clubs close and all of that."

"Okay, have fun!"

"I will." Matthew was planning to just slip on his shoes and run out the door with a wave, but Alfred got up to hug him.

"Drive safe, dude."

"Of course I will. You know I'm a better driver than you. Good night, Arthur."

"Yeah. And be safe." Alfred leaned his head on Matthew's shoulder for a moment, and Arthur's eyes pinched a bit at the corners, like he was stopping himself from furrowing his eyebrows. Matthew rolled his eyes, patting Alfred on the back.

"Jeez Al, relax. I'm not going far, really."

"Okay." He stepped back, and Matthew pulled on his sweatshirt, just in case the night got a little chilly.

"I'll text you, if you want. Just don't surprised if Gil takes my phone hostage when he's drunk and sends you messages that are half German, half swear words."

Alfred smirked. "Let him steal your phone, then. Those are always fun to decipher."

"Have fun with that. I'll see you later, Al."

"Yeah. See ya."

…

"Hey, Matt's here! Took you long enough." Gilbert waved to him from their usual table, and Matthew rolled his eyes, going over to sit in his usual spot, beside Francis and across from Gilbert and Antonio.

"I know, but saying goodbye to Al took longer than expected."

"He's still being super clingy?"

"Yeah. I don't know why, either. I mean, I get that he's still sad about… you know. I'm still not over it either."

"But you're not feeling the need to be closer to Alfred than usual?" Francis twirled the stem of his wine glass around in his fingers, raising an eyebrow at Matthew. "If I'm not mistaken, it sound like you're actually trying to spend _less_ time with him."

"Yeah, you're right."

"But why?" Antonio asked. "What's up with you two lately? Al needs you to be around, you should be there for him!"

"I know. But he… he has to stop needing me so much. I know neither of us are completely back to normal yet, and I know he feels like I'm the only one who really gets it, but… we're not together like that. We never have been, we never will be. It's complicated, Antonio."

"So tell us." Gilbert leaned back in his chair, swirling his beer around a bit. "Get a drink and let's have a little story time. We've got all night!"

"It's a boring story, really. I mean-"

"Just tell us, Matt. I'm your boss, do what I say!"

"We aren't at work, Gil. I don't have to listen to you."

"Just do what he says. You know how stubborn he gets." Francis leaned on the table, looking over at Matthew and tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "Besides, we'd like to hear, to see if we can help in any way."

Matthew sighed. "I highly doubt that. But really, all that's happened is that Al's been really clingy lately, like he has to be right beside me or touching me at all times." All three men looked at him with raised eyebrows, and Matthew rolled his eyes. "Not like _that_, you dorks. I mean, he always has to have a hand on my leg or he makes sure our elbows are touching or he lays his head on my shoulder. And whenever I'm going somewhere or he's going out, he hugs me like he's not going to see me for months. And I can tell Arthur doesn't like it one bit."

"So, it's like someone replaced him with Francis?" Gilbert grinned tauntingly at Francis, who sighed in mock exasperation. Matthew just shook his head, smiling.

"Not really. Well, sort of. But he's not feeling me up or anything, so…"

Francis rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't you start. I'm not really _that_ bad, am I?"

Antonio shrugged. "Eh… sometimes. If you get a little too much wine in your system…"

"Toni, you're the same when you're tipsy." When Gilbert laughed at that, Matthew looked pointedly at him. "And so are you, Gilbert. Don't pretend you don't know. I'm pretty sure I'm the only one here who doesn't grope people when drunk."

"No, but you kiss people."

Matthew could feel himself blush. "That was _once_."

"One time too many, I'm afraid. But don't fret, _mon ami_."

"Hey, you went along with it!"

"Well, who wouldn't?"

Toni waved his hand at Francis. "Oh, let him talk. So, what are you planning?"

"What do you mean?"

"To get Alfred to be less clingy. I mean, if it's making Arthur jealous, then he must want it to stop. And you don't want to mess things up for Alfred, so you must want it to stop as well."

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "Who said anything about Arthur being jealous?"

"Well, come on, it's pretty obvious! He knows how you feel about Al, and he doesn't want him hanging off of you all the time. Anyone would get jealous after a while." He tilted his head. "You mean you didn't notice?"

"I noticed, but it didn't occur to me that it was jealousy! He knows I'd never try to take Al from him."

"But can he be certain that Alfred won't leave him for you? It's probably crossed his mind before, _non?_"

"But Al wouldn't-"

"Ach, you can't know that!"

"No, I mean Al doesn't even see me that way. I'm like a brother in his eyes."

"Ohh… well that's a problem."

"You don't say?" Matthew rolled his eyes.

Toni smiled. "No need to be sarcastic, Matthew. We're just being sympathetic."

"I know. Sorry." He sighed. "And I really don't know what to do about this. I'm trying to give him space, but he definitely doesn't want space. I've tried getting him to spend more time with Arthur, and that sorted worked for a while, but… he still wants us to do _everything_ together."

"So do something he _can't_ do with you," Francis said with a flip of his hair. "Let him know you need time to yourself."

"How?"

Francis shrugged. "Tell him you're going to start dating again. Or that you're at least getting back into the dating scene. Go meet new people, that sort of thing."

"That's… a surprisingly good idea."

Francis smiled, taking a sip of wine. "Well, I have been told my knowledge on relationships and people is quite widespread. If being a lawyer doesn't suit me in the future, I could always go be a sex therapist…"

"That doesn't mean you get to sleep with all your patients, _Dummkopf._"

"Oh, when you're me, that's _exactly_ what it means."

Antonio laughed. "And that's why you're our lawyer! You don't have to sleep with the jury to get them on your side, you just blow them a couple kisses."

Matthew hid a smile behind his hand, and Gilbert spotted it. "Hey, we made him smile! This night is a success."

Matthew tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"You haven't been smiling enough lately, _mon ami._ It was starting to worry us."

"I'm all right. I feel fine. Really, I do."

"We know, but we can tell you're worried." Antonio smiled, and Matthew frowned.

"Worried?"

"Yes, worried. You have bags under your eyes, you try to blow us off like nothing's wrong, and you get a crease in your brow whenever someone mentions Alfred." Francis shook his head. "Unfortunately for you, we notice things."

"Yeah, you really do. But I'm fine."

"No, you aren't."

"Okay, okay. I don't know, I just feel weird about trying to push Al away, and I don't know why he's being so clingy, and I don't want his relationship to fall apart because of me."

"Just do what you think is right." Gilbert shrugged, but Matthew shook his head.

"But what if I'm wrong? I mean, Al just _doesn't_ see me in that way, and I know it, but I don't want Arthur getting the wrong idea, and at the same time I'm tired of trying to just keep everything hidden, and I just don't know anymore." Matthew sighed, leaning on his hand. "It sucks a lot, okay?"

"And we're here for you." Antonio reached across the table, taking his hand. "If you need to vent or you need someone to talk to about this, come find one of us. We'll help however we can."

"Toni's telling the truth, Matt. It sucks when you're sad, and we don't like it." Gilbert took a swig of his beer, and Matthew smiled.

"Thanks, guys."

"Come on, Matthew. We're your friends, we're not going to just sit by when we know something's wrong."

"I know, Francis. But I really needed to get that off my chest." He shrugged. "Talking things out helps more than I realize, I guess. I mean, I don't even know what I'm doing with myself anymore and you guys are just… it helps to know I have people to talk to about this."

"And we're happy we can be here for you." Francis put a hand on Matthew's shoulder. "Do what you can to figure this whole situation out, but if you need advice or anything, just give me a call."

"Hey! Or me."

"Don't forget about me."

They all looked so earnest, so concerned, that Matthew had to blush and look away. "Thanks, you three. I really mean it."

"And we really mean it." Antonio grinned, and Gilbert finished off his beer.

"Okay, are we done with the heart-to-heart? 'Cuz I wanna drink some more."

Francis shot Gilbert a reproachful glance and rolled his eyes, but Matthew just laughed. "Yep. I'm okay. Don't worry about me now. Come on, let's have some fun."

It was always nice to have a reminder that his friends really did care about him, that they worried about him more than he thought. But still, Matthew didn't really know what he was going to do about this whole situation, and thoughts entered his mind that he couldn't shake once they took root. Thoughts like 'what if Arthur doesn't get it, and I end up screwing things up for Alfred without even trying?' and 'how the hell am I going to push Al away without him noticing?'

It was too much for him to think about without letting it show, especially when he was supposed to be having fun.

…

Matthew slowly worked on spending less time with Alfred and trying his best to keep his distance, but it didn't really work too well. But then something happened that really caught his attention and made him realize he needed to change something quickly.

He and Al were walking back from a movie, since the theater was only a little ways down the block from their places, and trying to find parking was an absolute nightmare on the weekend. It had been an action movie, so Arthur didn't want to go with them. Good thing he didn't, since it was full of explosions, bimbos with big boobs (not that he or Alfred really paid attention to that except to laugh and say 'look! They're defying gravity!' at some points), and plenty of chase scenes. Sure, the plot was dumb, but at least the special effects were good. Alfred was in the middle of describing said special effects.

"And dude, the way the plane crumpled up when it crashed into that mountain, it was like, super realistic!"

"I know. It was pretty cool."

"Yeah, I know! And man, I wish I had a pair of sunglasses like the main hero guy. Those were _so_ badass."

"Al, we both already wear glasses."

"Uh, prescription sunglasses, duh."

"Oh, right. Those actually exist."

"You bet they do! Now, if I can convince Arthur, maybe I'll get a pair."

"For your sake, I hope so, or you'll complain about it forever."

"Hey, be nice." Alfred shoved him, and Matthew smiled.

"Sorry, sorry. Just having a sense of humour."

"Yeah, a crappy one."

"Oh, now look who's not being nice."

"Shaddup, Matt." But Alfred grinned at him as he said that, and Matthew shook his head.

He checked his watch, and sighed when he saw the time. "Well, I'd better head home for the night."

"Okay! Are you a big boy, or do you need me to walk you to the door?"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Alfred laughed. "Kidding, Mattie. Just kidding." He suddenly slipped a hand into one of Matthew's back pockets, nearly cupping his ass, and Matthew had to stop himself from jumping and yelling 'What the fuck, Al?!'

He glanced over at Alfred's face, but he wasn't even paying attention, like this was nothing out of the ordinary. But it _was_ something out of the ordinary. Normally, he and Alfred walked fairly close together, yes, but they never so much as brushed hands, let alone _stuck their hands in each other's fucking pockets_. Matthew tried to shake it off, tried not to think about how Alfred only ever did anything like this with his boyfriends, any of that.

And, since Matthew's apartment was the closest to the movie theater, Matthew stopped in front of the building. "Well, good night."

"G'night, bro." Alfred pulled his hand out of Matthew's pocket and hugged him, to Matthew's relief, but then one of his hands slipped down to the small of Matthew's back, resting right above the waistband of his jeans. Matthew had to struggle not to shiver at Al's touch, thinking to himself the whole time, 'what the fuck, what the fuck, what the _fuck_ is going on?!'

When Alfred let go, Matthew went upstairs to his apartment straight away. This wasn't good. Nope, not good at all. Something had to be done about this, and _fast_, before Alfred did something like that in front of Arthur. That would absolutely _not_ be a good thing. Matthew pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling someone he knew could help.

"Hi, Francis? I think I'm going to take your advice and start dating again. So… could you help me?"

He heard nothing but quiet laughter on the other line for a second, until Francis composed himself enough to speak. "But of course I can. You will have to tell me what happened later."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a reason for this, _non?_ But for now, put that aside. What do you need to know?"

Matthew listened to Francis' advice, including when the Frenchman told him to just go to bed. When he crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling, he could almost _swear_ he could still feel Al's hand on his ass. That was definitely a problem. He rolled over, pressing his face into his pillow and closing his eyes. Something seriously, _definitely_ had to change.

…

And the next time they were hanging out, Matthew decided to try to put an end to Alfred's oblivious affections. He did so while they were doing the dishes after dinner, Arthur washing while the two of them dried. He looked at the two of them quickly, decided it was a good time to bring it up, and just said casually (well, as casually as he could), "Oh, I've been thinking of getting back into the dating scene. I thought I'd kind of let you guys know."

Arthur looked over his shoulder and shrugged. "That's good, I suppose."

"Yeah, only thing is, Matt hasn't dated anyone in like, forever."

"Oh, shut it. I know how to date."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. And whatever I don't remember, I'll just get Francis to help me with."

"Seriously? Francis _again?_"

"He's a good friend of mine, Al. Besides, he knows a lot about dating and all of that."

"Well, good for you. So, when are you gonna start?"

"I don't know… maybe next week? I can always just go to a bar or something."

"Don't go getting any beer goggles, dude."

"I won't. I know my limit, Al."

"Good. Have fun with it, 'kay? Don't be all shy and awkward like you sometimes are." Alfred grinned. "Wow, what am I gonna do with my Friday nights now?"

"I don't know, actually spend time with your boyfriend?"

Arthur laughed at Matthew's comment, surprising both of the other men. He cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"What was that for?" Alfred asked.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

"No, I want to know."

Matthew could sense that this conversation might take a turn for the less pleasant, judging by how Alfred was frowning and how his tone had started to sound a little bitter, so he decided to speak up. "You've been spending a lot of time with me lately, Al."

"Yeah, so? You're my best friend, we always spend time together."

"Well yes, but in comparison you haven't been spending much time with Arthur."

Alfred paused, obviously letting that sink in. He furrowed his eyebrows. "But you never turn me down when I ask you to hang out!"

"Yes, I do. Well, I mean, I try to. You just insist until I give in or make a real excuse."

"Oh." Alfred grimaced. "Oh, fuck. I'm being a shitty boyfriend." He turned to Arthur, his eyebrows furrowed. "Art, I'm so sorry! I never even noticed!"

"Don't fret, love. It's fine."

"But you never say anything, so I just kind of assumed you were like, cool with everything! You gotta tell me this kind of thing, you know I'm oblivious!" Arthur and Matthew shared a knowing glance at that, and Alfred looked between the two of them. "What is it? What did I do now?"

"Nothing, Al. Don't worry about it." Matthew shrugged, hanging up his dishtowel.

"Why won't you guys tell me anything? Look, I know I've been really out of it since Dad died, but I can't help that!"

"That's not it, poppet." Arthur dried his hands on the dishtowel Matthew had been using and lay a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "No one expects you to have moved past that yet, least of all Matthew and myself."

"Then what am I doing wrong?" Alfred tossed his towel on the counter and leaned on Arthur, the Englishman's hands immediately pulling him close. "You've been all snippy lately, and Matt, you've been acting really weird too, and I feel like it's all my fault but I don't know why."

Arthur shook his head. "It's not your fault, my sweet. You just haven't been entirely yourself lately, and I know that it's not something you can help, but it's worrying me. My temper is a little short, I know, and I'm sorry about that."

He looked at Matthew expectantly, but Matt was just too busy being oddly happy that Alfred had finally turned to Arthur for comfort. It was a hollow happiness though, and was quickly overshadowed by a strange sadness that made his heart clench, made him almost unable to breathe. "I need a minute," he choked out, turning away. This was exactly what he had been trying to get Alfred to do, but he had been so focused on making Alfred rely less on him that he had forgotten all about himself. He still needed Alfred, he was definitely still in love with him, and he didn't even know how to speak anymore.

He heard Alfred speak, seemingly from a long ways away. "Mattie? You okay?"

Matthew shrugged, unsure of how to respond. Oh, this was so unbelievably bittersweet, a soft, hesitant happiness quickly covered by the harsh bite of confusion and despair. Alfred's hand landed on his shoulder suddenly, and that snapped him back to reality. He realized he had been almost hyperventilating, that his heart was beating uncontrollably quickly.

"Matt? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he whispered. "I'm just not ready."

"Ready for what?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." He shook his head.

"Matt, you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Nothing you say can change anything about us, okay?"

"This isn't something we can talk about, Al. Trust me."

"Why the fuck not? Dammit Matt, tell me!"

"Just _DROP IT, AL!"_

Matthew didn't realize he had yelled it until Alfred yanked his hand back like he had been burned. He turned around, and saw that Arthur was just staring at him, wide-eyed, and Alfred was standing there like Matthew had slapped him across the face. Matthew covered his mouth with one hand. He almost never yelled, and never that loudly. He blinked several times, trying to keep his eyes clear.

Alfred spoke very softly. "Mattie?"

Matthew lowered his hand from his mouth. He cleared his throat, trying to speak normally again. "This isn't any of your business, Al. It's something I have to deal with on my own. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

Alfred frowned. "What the _hell_ is wrong that you can't tell me about? Matt, you aren't going anywhere until we talk this out."

"Fine. Not that it'll change anything."

"What do you mean, Matt?"

"Nothing. Look," Matthew said, raising his voice a bit, "When I said I'm not talking about this, I meant it!" Matthew walked to the door, reaching for his shoes. "I need to go."

"Where to? Home, so you can call up Francis and have him make everything better?" Alfred sounded sarcastic and angry.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

"Why can you go to him, but not talk to me? If you can be around him, be _with_ him, but not talk to me, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm going to _talk_ to him, Al, and that's it! God, when will you listen to me? He's a friend, he's there for me when I need him."

"So am I, dammit! Matt, I've _always_ been here for you!"

"Oh, really? Is that so? Then why are you always so fucking clueless all the time? It's always about _you_, Al! What _you_ want, what _you_ need!"

Alfred threw his hands up. "Oh, great, so now you're gonna pull that shit? Fucking throw that in my face? I can't help it, Matt! You never say anything, you never tell me anything, how am I supposed to know?"

"Pay more attention for once in your life, _that's _how! And if you really cared about someone other than yourself, you'd know how!" Matthew pulled his phone out of his pocket, calling Francis. "Come over. Get Toni and Gil if you can."

As he hung up, Alfred pointed at him accusingly. "Oh, fine! Go hang out with your little group of pervert friends. What have they got that I don't?"

"They aren't oblivious to everything around them, _that's_ what!" Matthew shoved his phone back in his pocket. "I'm trying Al. I really am. But I can't-" he cut off, shaking his head. "Never mind. I have to go."

"Don't you fucking run away, Matt! You _always_ do this!"

"And you _never_ learn." Matthew went to open the door when Alfred's arms shot out on either side of him, keeping him trapped there.

"What do I never learn?" He looked angrier than Matthew could ever remember seeing, but there was some note of desperation in his eyes. Still, Matthew couldn't tell him anything.

He kept his voice steady. "I need you, Al. But you just don't know… maybe Arthur can deal with it, but I need someone who lets me talk, who wants me to get everything off my chest." He glanced over at Arthur, who was just kind of standing there like he had no idea what was going on. And that was probably exactly the case.

Alfred sighed. "So teach me, Matt. I can't learn if you never teach me."

"Not right now, okay? I just have to go." Matthew knew he was on the verge of just clinging to Alfred and sobbing, but he couldn't break down. Not when he couldn't figure out what to say without giving everything away.

"Mattie, are you crying?" Alfred's voice was surprisingly soft.

"No. Just let me go."

"No. Tell me. What did I do to make you cry?" his hand landed on Matthew's shoulder, and the contact almost hurt.

"It's nothing _you_ did, Al."

Alfred stepped back suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed. "So what's wrong?"

"Something's happened. And it needs to change. And I just…" he shook his head, yanking the door open. "I _really_ need to go."

Alfred let him go this time, just standing there in shock and worry. Matthew ran back to his apartment, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it for a moment, noticing for the first time how much he was shaking. He went to sit down in the kitchen, and only a minute later, the door to his apartment opened.

"Matthew?"

It was Francis. Matthew nodded numbly, and Francis kicked off his shoes, walking towards him. "The others are on their way. You look like you've seen a ghost, what happened?"

"I don't even know. I just… I feel like I'm going crazy. I'll tell you once Gil and Toni get here."

Francis nodded, sitting down and taking one of Matthew's hands. "Let me ask you this now: are you all right?"

"I don't know. Physically, yes. Emotionally…" he shook his head. "I just don't even know anymore."

When the other two showed up, and all four of them were gathered around the kitchen table, and Matthew sighed and told them what had happened. "Al and I got in a fight. The worst we've ever had. I just mentioned how he hasn't been spending a lot of time with Arthur lately, and he felt guilty about that, so Arthur hugged him and the next thing I know, I'm having a mini panic attack in the corner. And then when Al came over and asked what was wrong, I yelled at him. I mean, I _really_ yelled." All three of his friends suddenly looked more worried, and Matthew shook his head. "I don't even know why. And suddenly we're shouting at each other, and I'm saying things I know I really shouldn't, and I try to leave but he won't let me. But then all of a sudden, when I'm just choking on my breath and trying not to cry, he steps back and lets me go."

Francis sighed. "I guess he decided you really couldn't talk to him. But Matthew, what started all of this?"

"It was that he turned to Arthur, and not to me. He leaned on Arthur, not on me. He's always leaned on me for everything. And it just sort of hit me, that maybe he doesn't need me anymore, and I'm not ready for that just yet." Matthew pushed his hair out of his face. "I don't _want_ him to need me, but I _need_ him to need me. And I don't want to lose him as a friend, but I love him too much to let this go on for much longer. I know he loves Arthur, and I know they're happy, and I know I should be happy for them, but it just _hurts_ so much now. I thought I could deal with this, but maybe I can't."

He shook his head. "I don't know what to do. And I don't know what I'm going to tell Al the next time I see him, because I _can't_ tell him this. I thought this was actually working, that I could push him away and be just fine, but I was wrong."

"That's okay, Matt. You're only human, we all fuck up." Gilbert shrugged.

"I know, but…" Matthew sighed. "I'm sorry for dragging you guys into this, but I just… I can't go this alone, and I don't have Al to help me right now. Oh, god. What if I've fucked things up permanently?"

Francis put an arm around his shoulders, and Matthew couldn't help it. He stared down at the table, his eyes filling with tears. He blinked them away as best as he could, looking up when Antonio lay a hand on top of his. "Matthew, I don't really know what to say."

"That's okay. I just need someone here with me right now. I don't mean to be such a downer all the time, and I know I'm being an emotional sinkhole, but-"

"No," Gilbert interrupted him, "You're down on your luck and you had a fight with your best friend. That's something we've all been through."

Francis pressed a kiss to the side of his head. "It'll be fine, _cher._ You just weren't prepared for the emotional shock, that's all. Just tell Alfred you've been dealing with a lot of personal issues lately, and tell him as much of the truth as you can. All friends fight, even those who are as close as can be."

"But how am I supposed to go about this? Do I go see him, or do I let him come see me?"

"Wait a couple days."

"Toni's right. Let yourself think it over, then you'll be able to decide. If you can figure out what to say, then that's even better."

"Okay." Matthew breathed in deeply, clearing his throat. "I'm all right now."

"Good." Antonio stood up, getting Matthew a glass of water. He set it on the table and leaned his head against Matthew's for a second. "Cheer up, okay? When you're sad, it makes me sad."

"Yeah. Sorry."

"None of this is your fault, Matt." Gilbert sighed. "If we could do more, we would."

"Thanks." Matthew leaned on his hand. "It's good to have you three around. You always know what to say."

After Gilbert and Antonio had left, and it was just Francis, who was getting his shoes on, Matthew suddenly realized something and put a hand over his mouth. Francis froze. "Matthew? Are you all right?"

"I just now noticed… you always know what to say… that's what Al always says to me. He always needs me to tell him that everything's okay."

Francis stepped forward, pulling Matthew into a hug. "I'm sorry."

"But I never say that, because I never tell him anything. _I'm_ the bad friend. But I _can't_ tell him anything. What am I supposed to do?"

"Like I said, tell him as much as you can. Leave out what you can't say."

"But-"

"Shh. Everything will be all right."

"I hope you're right." Matthew let himself lean on Francis, if only for a moment, thankful that he was there to hold him up. He just wished none of this had happened, or at least that he could've done something to make it not so bad.

…

Matthew didn't try to get in touch with Alfred over the next couple days, still calming himself down and trying to figure out exactly _why_ he had reacted like that. he knew he wasn't ready for all of this, but he had never expected to snap under the pressure, and definitely not in that way. He just _wasn't_ violent, he hardly _ever_ yelled about anything. It wasn't his nature. But he had yelled, had lashed out in frustration and anger and fear. That wasn't normal at all. Just another thing that needed to change…

Matthew sighed, stopping in the middle of putting away laundry to sit on his bed. And what if Arthur had just gone ahead and told Al everything? _Then_ what was he supposed to do? He felt like crap; he was so tired and angry with himself for this. Maybe if he just didn't bother seeing Alfred for a while, things would blow over, or he could at least help himself get over Al before seeing him next, and maybe things would stop hurting so damn much. He stood back up, picking up a shirt and folding it before putting it away. Yes, he'd definitely avoid Alfred for a while yet, at least until he felt he could handle it.

But just as he thought that, he heard someone knock on his door, quietly. "Matt, open the door."

It was Alfred. Matthew froze, unable to move. He heard Alfred sigh.

"Open the door or I'll let myself in."

Oh, right. Alfred had a key to his apartment. Well, that was suddenly the stupidest idea either of them had ever come up with. Matthew ignored Alfred, hoping he would just assume he wasn't home and just leave.

Alfred knocked again. "Matt, open the door." Matthew heard the door unlock, but before it opened, the deadbolt caught it and he heard Alfred growl, "Okay, now I know you're actually home. Open the goddamn door, Matt."

He was sounding more and more pissed off by the second, but Matthew couldn't bring himself to move closer to the door, let alone speak and tell Alfred to just leave. Damn, why couldn't he do anything?

"Matt! You open this door _right now!_ I'm not gonna let you lock yourself away, okay? I _need_ to talk to you!"

When Matthew still didn't move, didn't say a word, Alfred yelled, "MATT! You get your ass over here and open this door right fucking now! Open the door or I will FUCKING BREAK IT DOWN!" he pounded on the door.

He sounded almost like he was panicking, and Matthew moved towards the door at last. Was he just angry, or was he actually worried? There was only one way to find out. Matthew undid the deadbolt just as Alfred yelled, "MATT!" again, and opened the door calmly.

Alfred had his fist raised, about to pound on the door again, but he dropped it immediately, the anger in his face melting away in an instant. He stepped forward, making some kind of relieved sound and pulling Matthew into a hug, his arms tight around Matthew's chest. Matthew let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, letting his arms come up to wrap around Alfred. Everything suddenly seemed okay.

Alfred squeezed him just a bit, and he closed his eyes. This was something he knew he'd never get over, just how _right_ it felt to have Al in his arms, Alfred holding him close like that. He didn't want to start crying, but he still leaned into Alfred's arms, really _needing _to use him as a rock for the first time. Alfred stepped forward, moving them into the apartment. He kicked the door shut behind them, not letting go of Matthew the whole time. When he finally did step back, he rested his hands on Matthew's shoulders, speaking softly. "Mattie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I know something's wrong, and I'm really not helping, but I don't know what it is. All I know is that it's gotta be at least partially my fault. But I don't want to see you look like that ever again, okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, right before you left, when you looked at me, you just looked so sad and angry and like… almost _dead_ inside. It seriously scared me. And I just… I feel so bad, Mattie."

"I'm sorry too. I don't know what happened, something just set me off and I… I've never done that before. That wasn't normal. I'm sorry. And I didn't mean what I said, really, but I'm sorry for yelling like that." He sighed, dropping his gaze to the floor. "Whatever got into me was…"

"Hey." Alfred tilted his chin up, forcing Matthew to meet his eyes. "Don't apologize for that, Matt. You can't just keep things bottled up inside forever without blowing up every once in a while."

"But I normally _can_, Al. That's just it. I've always held stuff back, and that's never happened before."

"It's okay, really. I forgive you. But what are you so stressed about? I mean, something's gotta have led up to this. It's not like you to yell and all that."

Matthew looked away, shrugging. "I don't really know." A blatant lie, but Alfred didn't have to know that. "Things have just been rough lately. And a lot of things are changing, and I'm not sure if I'm ready for all of that yet."

"So that's what you meant." Alfred squeezed Matthew's shoulders lightly. "I get how you feel. I mean, with Dad being gone and all…"

"Things don't feel the same anymore."

"Yeah. Exactly. And I know that a while back we talked about, you know, me and Art, and it seems like a really big deal, but we're not rushing into anything. Both of us want to make sure we're totally ready for this. So don't worry, I'm not getting married or anything. Not for a while, at least."

"I know. That was sort of on my mind too. I feel like it's time I just grow up and try to put myself out there again, but it doesn't feel right."

"I know, it feels really weird at first. You'll get used to it after a while." Alfred sighed. "And look, you need to tell me when something's wrong. We both know I'm not a mind reader, and I really _suck_ at figuring you out, Mattie."

"I know. I just…"

"Come talk to me if you need anything. We've been best friends since before we could talk, and there's nothing you should need to hide from me. The next time something happens, come tell me. Promise me that, okay?"

"…okay, I promise."

"And don't scare me like that ever again. I thought something serious had happened to you, like you weren't telling me something important and it was hurting you."

Well, Alfred had just hit the nail on the head.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to show like that. I mean… I didn't mean for it to seem like that." Matthew kept his voice as even as he possibly could, trying to make it through this without just giving up and telling Alfred everything.

Alfred hugged him again, murmuring, "Arthur told me something I didn't know, by the way." Matthew froze, not daring to move, not daring to speak. Oh, god. This was it. Arthur _had_ just told Alfred everything. So much for his promises not to push Matthew out of Al's life. Alfred continued, "He said you're looking out for me a lot more than I realize. And so I'm gonna try and pay more attention so I see what he meant."

Matthew blinked several times. "Is that all he said?"

"Well, that and how I need to stop being such a dummy and start actually paying attention to other people."

"I can't argue with him there." Matthew was too busy being relieved to care about that. So Arthur hadn't… okay, now he really owed the Englishman a favour.

"Hey," Alfred mumbled, "Not cool. I know you've been telling me for years that I don't focus enough and all of that, but I never thought… you know, that I'm just being way more selfish than I realize."

Matthew smiled, shaking his head. "It's okay. I'm the same. I've been wrapped up in my own thoughts lately, and I didn't think anything of it."

"Hey, even you're allowed to be oblivious from time to time." Alfred squeezed him lightly. "And you know what?"

"No, what?"

"I wasn't even planning to come over and talk to you today. I was just heading out to the store, actually, but I felt like I had to do something to fix this. I mean, I feel really bad about this whole thing, and…"

"It's okay, Al. It's not your fault."

"If you say so, Matt." He sighed. "Come over for dinner tonight, 'kay? I'll make sure it'll be edible, don't worry. And the next time something's going on, remember you promised to talk to me about it."

"I will. To both of those."

"Good."

Matthew couldn't help but smile. And damn it all, Alfred just had to go and steal his heart all those years ago, then keep on giving Matthew reasons to love him more and more. He hugged Alfred a little bit tighter, deciding to temporarily give up on his campaign to make Alfred less affectionate. He would keep this for as long as he could, his own way of being selfish. At least things were back to normal now, though nothing that should've changed had changed. Matthew still loved Alfred too much for his own good, and Alfred was still completely clueless to it, but it seemed like things might actually be okay. Matthew just had to hope that he wasn't lying to himself about this.

* * *

_The angst continues... well, it's over for now. I promise much more happiness next chapter, everyone!_

_Drop a review if you like, let me know what you thought. Also, if you see any spelling/grammar mistakes, please point them out to me!_

_And thanks for reading._


	6. Chapter 5

_Now, after that intense amount of angst in the previous chapters, I have something quite a bit lighter. And hopefully much more humorous._

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I really appreciate it._

_Oh, and beware of some rather mature content ahead. If you don't enjoy that kind of thing, I would suggest you skip over it._

* * *

Dating, Matthew decided, was far more boring than he remembered it being. Even if he met a guy who was nice, good-looking, and interesting all at once, there was always just… something. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something wrong. He simply couldn't enjoy flirting with other guys. Sure, he could blab about the stuff he liked for hours, but as soon as things took a turn for the potentially romantic, something in his brain just said "Nope!" and it didn't click. So, bored of all this and wanting an actually nice evening out, Matthew was dumb enough to mention it in front of his little trio of friends during lunch.

Lovino had been dragged to their table by Antonio for some reason, though Matthew wasn't going to ask what exactly was going on between the two of them when his intern was glowering like that. When he sat down with his lunch, he sighed and leaned on one hand. "Dating sucks."

Gilbert laughed. "No kidding! That's why I gave up, bro."

"I know, but I sort of have to try. And it sucks. I seriously haven't met a single guy I'd even consider having a second date with."

"And you've been doing this for how many weeks now?"

"Four. The closest I've gotten so far was one guy at an art gallery, but he just… his hair was too… you know. And his voice was too… I don't know." Matthew gave up gesturing with his hands to try to explain when the four others at the table rolled their eyes.

Francis smirked. "It sounds like you need to loosen up a little, _mon pauvre cher._ Try to avoid comparing them to anyone else, and just relax. Enjoy them as they are, give the men a chance."

"I'm trying, Francis. I really am. But I'm getting tired of introducing myself to people and running through my boring life story."

"Well then, shall I treat you?"

"Huh?"

Francis laughed. "You really have forgotten about all of this, haven't you? _Mon dieu,_ Alfred was right. I'm asking you if you'd like to go out for dinner, Matthew. Just the two of us."

"In like… a romantic way?"

"Well, not exactly. More as a practice, so you get back into the swing of things. If after four weeks you haven't had any success, you probably need a nice evening out."

"You're right."

"Shall I pick you up tonight? It's Friday, after all."

"Uh… sure. That sounds pretty… uh, sure."

"Excellent. Seven-thirty, then?"

"Okay, sounds good."

…

When Matthew told Alfred he was going on a friend-date, Alfred just gave him a _look_. "Dude, seriously?"

"It's just dinner, Al."

"Yeah, sure. That's why you're getting your nice clothes out."

"We're going to a nice place, that's all."

"Oh, I bet… really though, when are you just gonna admit it?"

"Admit what?"

"You and Francis." Alfred rolled his eyes. "This… thing you two have going on."

"Al, no. It's really not. We're both seeing other people. So…"

"Fine, fine. Keep telling yourself that, and you might start believing it."

"I'm telling the truth, Al." Matthew grabbed his clothes and ducked into the bathroom to change.

"Dude," Alfred called after him, "You don't need to hide when you change. Not like I'm gonna stare or anything."

"Maybe, but I still like privacy sometimes. I don't need other people knowing what underwear I'm wearing. Unless I want them to know, I mean."

"Well, if it's a thong or something, I get it."

Matthew rolled his eyes, calling out, "It's _not _a thong, Al." But he was wearing nice underwear… not that Alfred needed to know.

"I believe you. You're way too awkward for that."

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up." Matthew came out of the bathroom, dressed at last, making sure his pants weren't bunched up strangely or anything. He checked himself in the mirror, straightening his glasses. "All right, I'm ready to go."

"Yay Mattie, look at you, all dressed up!" Alfred grinned, and Matthew sighed.

"Whatever."

Alfred, who had flopped rather ungracefully on Matthew's bed, sat up suddenly. "Hang on a sec, you've got lint on your butt. Don't move."

"I can get it on my own, you don't have to—hey!"

"Chill out, man. Hey, your phone's going off. I bet it's your ride!"

"Probably, so _please_ don't say anything embarrassing." Matthew answered it to find out that yes, it was Francis.

"I'm here."

"I'll be down in a minute." Matthew hung up. "Okay Al, I've got to get going."

"Have fun on your date. Text me when you're done, let me know how it goes."

"It is _not_ a date."

"Whatever you say, Matt. Whatever you say."

"I'll see you later."

"Bye, dude! I'll lock up when I go, don't worry."

"You do that."

Alfred hugged him quickly, and Matthew wasn't sure if he should've been happy or disappointed that it was so brief. But he didn't have time to dwell on that, instead running out the door and getting into Francis' car.

"Hi. I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"It's no trouble, really." Francis smiled. "Let me guess, you were saying goodbye to Alfred."

"Yep. But he really wasn't too bad this time."

"Well, that's good, I suppose."

"Yeah."

While Francis drove, Matthew took the opportunity to look him up and down quickly. Okay, so Francis was always pretty damn hot, but looked better than usual. And he was pretty much the only guy Matthew knew who could wear a V-neck sweater with nothing underneath and _not_ look like a total douchebag hoser.

The evening went surprisingly well (certainly much better than the rest of Matthew's dates had gone), and Matthew actually found himself having fun. It sort of made him wonder if he should just try (yet again) to give up on Alfred, and maybe start thinking of others around him as potential love interests. It seemed like a scary thought, but a good idea at the same time. Sure, he only saw Francis as a friend, but things changed. People changed, feelings changed, all of that. Of course, that was the exact same logic he had used for _not_ giving up on Alfred all these years… dammit.

But at the end of the night, as Francis pulled back up to the apartment building, parking the car, Matthew decided it would be a good time to see if things could maybe go his way for once. He unbuckled his seatbelt, smiling at Francis. "You know, tonight was probably the most fun I've had in a while."

"I'm glad. I must say the same for myself, as well." Francis didn't undo his seatbelt, so Matthew reached over and did it himself.

"If you like, we can have a little more fun," he nearly whispered, looking up at Francis from under his eyelashes and smirking a little when Francis' eyebrows went up.

"Oh? And just what might that entail?"

"Whatever you want it to."

"Is that so?" Francis leaned in closer, and Matthew followed suit, until their lips were almost touching.

"Yep. So… do you want to?"

"I'd love to." Francis closed the gap, kissing Matthew gently, one of his hands moving to stroke the inside of Matthew's thigh. Matthew spread his legs a little, tilting his head to the side and slipping his tongue into Francis' mouth, apparently surprising the Frenchman if that soft groan was anything to go by. Okay, so maybe he wasn't usually the aggressive one, but that didn't mean he was just going to sit there and wait for Francis to make the first move.

And boy, did Francis give back, kissing him fiercely. By the time they pulled away for air, they were both definitely ready for more. "Come on," Matthew murmured, opening his door and getting out. Francis followed, and when they made it up to Matthew's flat, Matt was annoyed that he had to stop and dig around in his pocket for his keys. Goddammit, where _were_ they? Francis pressed up against him from behind, resting his hands on Matthew's hips and grinding slowly against him.

Matthew turned his head to the side to kiss Francis briefly, then broke away. "Seriously, though… just one minute. If I can find my fucking keys…" he pulled them out of his pocket and sighed in relief. "Finally." He unlocked the door and stepped inside, casting a glance over his shoulder. "You coming?"

Francis smiled, following him inside and closing the door. "Of course."

Matthew kicked off his shoes and stripped off his jacket. "Wait right here. I'll go get my stuff." He pretty much sprinted to his bedroom, getting the lube and condoms out of his bedside table. He checked his phone quickly and, sure enough, he saw a text from Alfred.

'_u back from ur date yet?'_

He rolled his eyes before replying quickly, _'It wasn't a date, but yes.'_ He tossed his phone on the bed once he sent the message and headed back to the living room. Francis was stretched out on the couch, waiting for him, and Matthew was surprised to see that he was still fully-clothed.

"You're not naked yet?"

Francis laughed, flipping his hair over his shoulder. "No, but if you like, I can be."

"Uh… yeah." Oh, way to be eloquent, Matt. _Really _smooth. Matthew shook his head at his reply and sighed.

Francis pulled his sweater over his head with a grace Matthew wished he could achieve, and beckoned him with a single finger as he dropped it on the floor. Matthew joined him on the couch, setting the stuff he was carrying on the coffee table. he reached over and undid Francis' belt, pulling it out of the belt loops and tossing it to join the Frenchman's shirt on the floor. He crawled into Francis' lap, kissing him as he unbuttoned his own shirt. Once it was off, he rested his hands on Francis' shoulders, moaning softly when he felt hands land on his ass.

Francis moved one hand around to the front of Matthew's pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them down. He broke the kiss for a moment, leaning his forehead against Matthew's. "Do you need me to be Alfred tonight?"

Matthew shook his head. "No. Tonight I'm okay." He kissed Francis again, very briefly, murmuring, "I want you to be you."

Francis smiled. "I can do that."

Matthew fumbled with the button on Francis' pants, silently cursing himself for not being just a _bit_ more graceful at taking off clothes. Really, Francis could undo buttons with his teeth if his hands were busy, and Matthew _still _struggled with zippers if he was distracted. When he finally managed to undo Francis' pants, he pulled them off, taking the Frenchman's underwear with them and throwing them across the room somewhere.

Francis snagged the lube off the table, pulling Matthew's underwear down with his free hand. He slicked up a couple fingers and slid one into Matthew, kissing him and playing with one of his nipples. Matthew lifted himself up to make it a little easier for Francis, and he found himself slowly getting distracted by the pleasure. When he felt ready, he reached over and grabbed a condom. He rolled it onto Francis, who pulled his fingers out. "How do you want me?" Matthew asked. Francis turned him around and pulled Matthew back into his lap so his chest was against Matthew's back.

"Just like this, if you don't mind."

"No, this is good." Matthew lifted himself up, guiding Francis' cock to his entrance and lowering himself, letting his eyelids flutter as he sank down. When he was situated, he waited a couple seconds, realising with mild interest that he was facing the door to his apartment. Well, no big deal. He leaned back against Francis, letting out a quiet groan when Francis' hands landed on his hips. He started moving, finding the perfect angle almost right away, moaning out loud when Francis struck his prostate dead-on. One of Francis' hands wrapped around his erection, and Matthew moaned, resting one hand on Francis' arm and bringing the other up to tangle in the Frenchman's hair. He felt Francis kiss the beck of his neck, so he tilted his head back a little, giving Francis access to his throat.

He was getting closer and closer to the edge, he could feel it. Francis nipped his throat gently, and Matthew groaned as it nearly pushed him over the edge. "Ahh… no more, please! Ngh…" His eyes fluttered shut with the overload of pleasure.

Then shot open when the door to his apartment swung open.

Alfred stood there, and for a second, Matthew thought it was just some kind of pleasure-induced hallucination. When he realised it actually _was_ Alfred, he freaked out. "Fuck, Al!"

Francis lifted his head up and murmured, "I thought we weren't-" he cut off as he saw Alfred standing there, and froze. "Oh. Alfred."

"Uh…" Alfred stood there, not moving, not even blinking, his brain apparently still processing the information his eyes were giving him.

Matthew put his hands over his face, not daring to move any further. Francis' cock was pressing_ right_ against his prostate, sending constant waves of pleasure through him, and he was afraid that one little motion would push him over the edge.

Francis was the only one to have rational thought, clearing his throat and jerking his head to the side. "Do you mind?"

"Uh… yeah. I'll come later, I guess." Alfred stepped out, closing the door behind him, and Matthew sighed in relief.

He dropped his hands from his face, tipping his head back again and lifting his hips. Francis kissed his jaw, murmuring, "You got so _tight_ when you saw it was him, I thought I was going to lose it."

"Yeah, m-me too. Please, Francis… more."

…

Matthew wasn't sure if he was imagining it or if his orgasm was more intense than usual. It certainly felt that way. When he had finally recovered and both he and Francis were dressed, he laughed nervously. "Do you suppose Al's sitting out there in shock?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Go check if you like."

It turned out that yes, Alfred was sitting just outside the door, and when Matthew opened it to peek into the hall, he and Alfred looked at each other for about two seconds before bursting out laughing. Matthew held the door open for Alfred, shaking his head and still giggling a bit. "And _that_, Al, is why we _knock_ if people are home."

"Yeah, yeah. But dude, _seriously? _Did you hafta do it on the _couch?_"

Francis was sitting on said couch, and he raised an eyebrow at Alfred. "Is there anything wrong with using a couch for such activities?"

"Well… no, but…" Alfred shook his head and sighed. He sat on the floor, crossing his legs, then looked pointedly at the coffee table and coughed politely. "Lube's still on the coffee table."

"Shit," Matthew mumbled, grabbing the bottle. He put it away in his bedroom and cleared his throat when he was back in the living room. "So. We're going to forget this whole thing happened."

"Yep. Sure thing." Alfred nodded, then smirked and shook his head again. "You had your socks on, by the way."

Matthew put his head in his hands, just _knowing_ he was blushing. "Dammit Al! Of all the things to notice…"

"Well, where was I_ supposed_ to look, huh?"

"…okay, point taken. But still!"

Francis rolled his eyes. "I am going to take a shower now."

Matthew nodded, sitting down on the couch. "Good idea. I'll take one later." Alfred grinned, and as soon as Francis was out of the room, Matthew threw a pillow at his head. "Stop that smiling, you."

"I was just thinking, this is going in the book of things we're never telling anyone, isn't it?"

"You bet your ass."

"Great word choice, bro."

Matthew groaned and put a pillow over his face. He lifted it back up, remembering something. "Hey, same to you! 'I'll come later,' what was _that_ supposed to be?"

Alfred laughed, shrugging. "An awkward attempt at a joke? I dunno. I was kinda too busy thinking 'hello, Matt's getting fucked on the couch' to come up with anything witty. I mean, damn, you guys were really into it."

"That's because we were—never mind."

"You were what?"

"You don't want to know. Believe me on this one."

"Try me." Alfred smirked, and Matthew sighed.

"Fine, if you _really_ want to know… we were almost finished."

Alfred waved his hands around, grimacing. "Okay, okay, you were right. Did _not_ need to know."

"Told you so. Why'd you come over, anyways?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I was planning on asking how your date with Francis went. I guess I got my answer… sheesh."

"Okay, we're done talking about this."

"Right." Alfred got up and sat next to Matthew on the couch. They sat there for a moment, Alfred staring at Matthew like he wanted to say something and Matthew pretending not to notice.

Eventually he gave up and sighed before asking, "What is it _now?"_

"Just one question. It's not awkward or anything, I swear!"

Matthew put the pillow back over his face. "Fine. Ask away."

"Hey, look at me."

"Not until I know I'm not going to freak out."

"Well, your horrified face _is_ pretty funny…"

"A lot funnier than my 'about to cum' face, I suppose?" Matthew lowered the pillow, then realized he had said that out loud. Oops.

Alfred gawked at him for a couple seconds before shaking his head vigourously. "Dude, _way _TMI."

"Yeah, I know. Not what I meant to say."

"Anyways… question."

"Okay. Go for it."

"I've never done it quite like that before, so… is it good?"

"Excuse me?"

"Is it good? You know, like that."

Matthew could feel his ears getting hot. "Uh… yeah. At least, from my… perspective."

"M'kay, that's all I needed to know."

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"You are absolutely _not_ telling Arthur about this."

Alfred laughed. "Oh, _hell_ no. He'd get all weird and British on me and cut me off for a week. Hell, probably more than a week, if I know him." He sighed and shook his head. "He's weird like that sometimes, but it's worth it. And now that I have something new to try with him…"

Matthew put a hand over his eyes. "Al, if you say _anything_ like 'I learned this from Matt,' so help me god…"

"No, no. Don't worry, I'm not _that_ stupid, trust me. He got freaked out enough when I told him we traded porn in high school."

Matthew lowered his hand. "You _told_ him that? Oh, god…"

"Well c'mon, I mean-"

"Al! That's one of those things you don't tell people! If our parents don't know about it, then don't tell anyone, okay? That's a good rule to live by." Alfred looked a little guilty, and Matthew knew he was hiding something. "Oh no. What did you do?"

"Uh… you probably don't wanna know. If I tell you, you'll go lock yourself in a broom cupboard or something."

"What is it?"

"Are you sure?"

"Just tell me!"

"Okay, okay. When we were like, nineteen or twenty and came home from college over winter break, your mom may have found something in your bag while looking for your laundry. And I may have covered for you and said it was mine, since I knew you'd freak out and stuff if she asked you about it."

"What'd she find? If it was a thong or something, then that's no big deal."

"No, like… a toy."

"Shit…" Matthew closed his eyes. "I am never going to look my mother in the eyes again."

"Sorry, dude. But at least I covered for you!"

"Yeah, and now she probably thinks we trade that kind of stuff. That's worse than her thinking we trade porn!"

"Okay, true. And… I may have sort of told Arthur about that."

"Dammit Al!"

Alfred put his hands up defensively. "What? We were sharing embarrassing stories and I was kind of tipsy. C'mon, I'm sure you've done worse with your buddies!"

"No, actually. Not really."

"I find that hard to believe."

Matthew sighed. "Okay, can we please avoid saying anything with the words hard, ass, come, or anything else like that?"

"Okay, okay. Damn, you're awkward."

"Shut up, Al."

"Hey, don't be such a dick." Alfred grinned, and Matthew rolled his eyes.

"I'll admit it, I left myself wide open for that one." Alfred laughed, and Matthew sighed, shaking his head. "I give up. No more talking. I'm going to go shower now."

"Don't have _too_ much fun in there, bro!"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

…

About a couple weeks after that absolutely dreadfully embarrassing incident, a group of them were hanging out at Alfred's place, taking turns on the Xbox. Gilbert and Alfred's friend Kiku were locked in a vicious battle of wills while the rest of them either watched in fascination, sat around looking bored, or were having conversations of their own.

Matthew was half-listening to Alfred arguing with his Korean friend, Yong Soo, about which K-pop group was better. Francis sat down next to him with a sigh and grumbled, "Your friend and his boyfriend have _horrible_ taste in wine and an incredibly pitiful selection."

"Tell me about it. Al won't drink anything that isn't super sweet, and Arthur won't touch anything French."

"Such a pity. They truly don't know what they're missing." Francis' hand landed on his knee, and Matthew barely noticed. He was used to it, after all.

Alfred sat down on Matthew's other side suddenly and proclaimed, "Dude, I seriously gotta piss."

"Then go to the bathroom."

"I would, but I think someone snuck in there with someone else to make out. Seriously, you'd think this was a college party or some shit like that. I was just makin' sure it wasn't you."

"Nope. I'm here." Matthew shrugged.

"Well yeah, I can see that."

There was a quick rotation of video game playing, where Gilbert threw the controller at his little brother's head and Kiku passed his controller to Alfred's boss (who seriously sucked at video games, but whoever was up against him always lost, because he looked like he'd beat you to death if you won against him). The gaming resumed.

Alfred yawned, stretching his arms above his head and then resting them on the back of the couch, his fingertips brushing Matthew's shoulder. "Man, we know _way_ too many foreigners for our own good."

"At least we have a diverse group of people."

"Yeah, but just make sure Arthur and Francis don't talk. Lawyers can't have a conversation without getting into an argument about _something_, and you know Arthur hates anything and everything French."

Francis raised an eyebrow and asked, "Which one is Arthur, anyways?"

"The blond one."

"…which blond one?"

"Oh, right." Alfred pointed. "He's over there somewhere, I think. Hell, maybe _he's_ in the bathroom, making out. I doubt it, though. I'd kick his ass for it and he knows it. Never mind, there he is! …in the giant group of other blond guys. Great." Alfred rolled his eyes.

Matthew sighed, picking his glass of juice up off the coffee table and taking a swig. "So who's in the bathroom?"

"Now _that's_ a mystery. My money's on Antonio and Lovino, though."

"That wouldn't surprise me, to tell the truth." Francis pushed Matthew's bangs out of his face. "But if you're really that curious, we can always knock on the door and ask."

"That'd be awkward, though…" Matthew shook his head. "I don't want to know _that_ badly." He drained his glass and stood up. "I'm going to go get myself some more juice, okay?"

"Okay!" Alfred waved him off.

Gilbert stood up from watching the television at the exact same time and followed Matthew to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and grinned. "Well, aren't you Mr. Popular tonight?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Come on, have you _seen_ what Francis and Alfred are doing?"

"No, apparently not."

"They're pretty much fighting over you. If we could translate their actions into words, it'd be like, 'my Matthew.' 'No, _my_ Matthew.' 'No, _mine_,' and all of that. it's pretty funny, actually. Alfred's still all protective of you, isn't he?"

"I suppose so, eh? I'm just sort of used to it by now. From both of them."

…

At the end of the night, when everyone was heading home, Matthew asked if he should help with the cleaning up, but Arthur told him it was fine. "Go on home, we'll take care of everything."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, positive. Don't worry about it."

"Okay then. I'll see you later, Arthur."

"Have a good night."

Alfred ran over suddenly to hug him. "Bye dude! See ya."

"Yeah. Bye, Al."

Francis was still there as well, and Matthew found himself subconsciously taking the Frenchman's hand. That apparently did not go unnoticed by Alfred, as he raised his eyebrows and looked at Matthew like he was about to ask him if he was still denying that he and Francis were together. But as Matthew opened his mouth to say something, probably along the lines of 'It's not what you think, Al,' Francis was asking if they should get going, and he was replying, "Yep. Let's go."

When the door closed behind them, Francis smiled and dropped Matthew's hand. "Well, I'd say Alfred now believes you're being serious about dating, if his behaviour tonight is anything to go on."

Matthew was a little surprised by Francis' comment, but it was definitely pretty spot-on. "You know what? I think you're right."

But was that a good thing or a bad thing…?

* * *

_Thank you for reading! As always, let me know if you see any grammar and/or spelling mistakes. I'm hoping to be updating fairly quickly on this one. Sneak peek, a lot of stuff is going to happen in the next chapter. Important stuff._


	7. Chapter 6

_Hello, everyone! Sorry for the longer wait than usual, but… life got pretty busy all of a sudden. That and this chapter took me quite some time to write. But as promised, there are some pretty important things up ahead, so I hope you think it's worth the wait!_

_By the way, as bad grammar is an extreme pet peeve of mine, so please point out any errors that you see!_

* * *

For the next few weeks, Alfred stopped being so clingy. He actually spent time with Arthur, and stopped hanging off of Matthew so much. It was kind of nice to have a bit more privacy, Matthew thought, but it was also kind of lonely without Alfred barging into his apartment or texting him constantly. Though it was definitely a mixed blessing: he could duck out of the shower if he forgot a towel without worrying about anyone throwing open the front door and seeing him walking around naked, but when he was curled up on the couch with a book, he sort of wished someone else was there with him.

And one chilly fall afternoon, when he was lying on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, with a bowl of nice, hot, freshly-popped popcorn, looking forward to what could potentially be a Downton Abbey marathon, he heard the door to his apartment unlock. When it swung open, he looked over and saw Alfred kicking off his shoes. He waved to him. "Hi."

"Hey. Damn, it's cold out there."

"Yep. There's hot water in the kettle if you want cocoa."

"Awesome. So, whatcha doing?"

"Eating popcorn and watching addicting British television."

"As long as it's not Doctor Who, then I'm cool with it. Arthur's been watching that stuff non-stop lately, and it's driving me nuts." Alfred sat down on the couch with a mug of hot cocoa and looked around. "Dude, where's the space heater?"

"Probably in the closet. I'm too comfy to get up, though."

"Fine, fine. I'll get it." Alfred passed his cocoa to Matthew. "Don't drink it all, 'kay?"

"Don't worry, I won't."

When Alfred had returned with the space heater and plugged it in, he took his mug back. "Thanks."

"So, what's new with you?"

"Huh?"

"You haven't been over in a while."

"Oh, yeah. Things got super busy."

"I know the feeling."

"Yeah. I missed you, dude. I mean, I know you're probably busy with Francis and all but…"

Matthew shook his head. "Al, it's not-"

"Bullshit, Matt. You don't just go holding hands with someone if you aren't dating them."

"We're not serious, I've told you that before. I mean, we're sort of together, but I just don't…"

"You don't what?"

"I'm not in love with him. I'm still looking for someone, really. He's just my fallback date, I guess."

"So you aren't going steady in the way most people do." Alfred took a sip of cocoa.

"Exactly."

"I get it." Alfred shrugged. "Dating. It's complicated."

"Yep. And Mom and Dad have been trying to get me to meet some guys they consider 'nice young men.' I told them thanks, but no thanks."

"Ah, parents. And your mom is a terrible matchmaker."

"Don't remind me. I'm thinking of visiting them this next weekend, actually."

"Aw, crap. I've gotta work on a project this weekend! We've got guys coming in from L.A., and they're only in town a couple days, so I gotta get all my planning and figure out how we're gonna work out our schedules."

"I'll tell them you wanted to come."

"Yeah. Say hi to my mom, will ya? Give her a kiss or something for me."

"Don't worry, I will."

Alfred sighed, leaning back into the couch. "So… how've you been?"

"Good, I guess. Things have been going pretty well lately."

"Cool." Alfred drummed his fingers on his mug, and there was a strange silence all of a sudden, neither of them looking at each other. Alfred shook his head and smirked. "Damn, we're being awkward."

"I thought I was the only one who noticed."

"Nope." Alfred reached for the popcorn. Suddenly his eyes lit up and he grinned. "Dude, popcorn basketball!"

"Al…" Matthew rolled his eyes. "No."

"C'mon, please? I won't hit you in the eye this time, I promise!"

"If you do, I have permission to dump the entire bowl over your head. And you get to clean up afterwards."

"Deal. You shoot first!" Matthew shook his head, but he still smiled when he tossed a piece of popcorn at Alfred, who caught it in his mouth and grinned. "My turn!"

"One at a time, Al!"

"Spoilsport. C'mon, you can do two!"

"No, I can't."

"Try anyways. And… fail."

"Told you so."

"Close enough. Again!"

…

Later that evening, when all the popcorn was gone and whatever had landed on the floor had been cleaned up, Matthew turned off the space heater and put it away. It was warm enough in the apartment, finally. "Are you going home for dinner?" he asked.

"Nope." Alfred stretched his arms over his head and winked at Matthew. "Tonight's a bro night."

"For him or for you?"

"For me, duh. I dunno what he gets up to when I'm out."

"Well, all I was planning for dinner is leftovers."

"Leftover what?"

"Beef stew, courtesy of Francis. I can pop it in the microwave."

"Sure! Works for me." Alfred got them a couple glasses, filled them with water, and flopped into a kitchen chair. "Oof. You know I'm not fussy when it comes to food. Unless Arthur cooked it… then I'm _very_ fussy."

"What'd he ruin this weekend?"

"Nothing, actually!"

"That's a first, eh?"

"I know. We went out Saturday night, and Sunday he made a roast. I took over the vegetables, obviously, but he didn't ruin the meat."

"That's something, at least."

"Yeah. What'd you do this weekend?"

"Well, Saturday I had a date, and it went pretty well. He's nice."

"M'kay, fun! Second-date material?"

"I think so. We're going out again not this weekend, but the one after. And Sunday I had the guys over, and we all contributed something. Toni did dessert, Francis brought the main course which is why I still have stew, I got wine, and Gil brought potatoes."

"Just potatoes?"

"Well, that and an actual side dish. But he gave me a bag of potatoes. I don't know why either."

"Was he drunk?"

"No, and that's the strange part. He did drink a little too much, though, and no one wanted to bother driving home, so they ended up staying the night here."

"All three of them?"

"Yep. Gilbert claimed the guest bedroom all to himself, so Toni decided to take the couch."

"Well, whatever works. I've slept in stranger places after parties."

"I know. I had to pull you out of a toy box once."

"I remember that… man, it was cramped." He took the bowl of stew Matthew passed him. "Thanks. So, have the four of you ever…?"

"Ever what?"

"You know…" Alfred jerked his head to the side, and Matthew realised what he meant.

"Oh." He shook his head vigourously. "No. _God_, no."

"Just askin'. But have the three of them?"

"Probably. I haven't asked. I decided I'm probably better off not knowing."

"True, true." They started eating, when Alfred seemed to remember something suddenly. "Oh yeah!" he swallowed a mouthful of stew. "I remember now, there was something I wanted to tell you. In a few weeks, something sort of really important might happen. I don't want to like, jump the gun or anything, but I thought I'd let you know now."

Matthew nodded, already able to guess what it was. And he wasn't pleased by his guess. "It's your two-year anniversary with Arthur, right?"

"Yeah."

"And you're thinking he might propose."

"Yeah. Only I'm super nervous about it. Like, I love him and all, but I don't want to rush into this. Like, we haven't had any big fights yet, and everyone I know who's gotten married says they had at least _one_ serious fight. We just kind of bicker."

"Al, are you having commitment issues?" Matthew gave Alfred an unimpressed look, and Alfred shook his head vigourously in reply.

"No! Of course not." Alfred sighed, leaning on his hand. "I just want to make sure he's, you know, the one."

"You've had two years to figure that out, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but…"

"He's not going to wait forever, Al. You can only cling to hope like that for so long before you have to start letting go. Some people can wait years, but some people can only wait a few years before giving up on love, and we both know Arthur's not all that patient."

"Since when are you an expert on this stuff, dude?"

"A while." Matthew shrugged, ignoring Alfred's scrutinising gaze.

"Is this what you were all upset about a couple months ago?"

"Part of it, yes." That much was true.

"Giving up on love… so, who was he?"

"Just someone. It's not important. I'm moving on, anyways." Matthew hoped he could bring himself to believe that and start getting over it. "Look, if you really love Arthur, and if he proposes, you should accept. You can wait a long time to get married, really."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just hoping I'm not fooling myself into thinking, you know, that he's as great as I think he is."

"I wouldn't know. He and I have had our differences, but he cares about you and that's all that matters to me."

"See, you're the good friend! Even if you don't really like Art, at least you're nice about him. I just feel like… I dunno. When I see Francis around you, he's always like, touching you and stuff, and I feel weird about it."

"He has a small personal space bubble, that's all. I'm used to it by now. Besides, Toni's like him too, if you haven't noticed."

"Well yeah, but I've never walked in on you and Toni doing anything."

"Hey, that was _your_ fault. If you knocked or something before opening the door, that could've been avoided!"

"Well, just 'cuz I don't have sex out of the bedroom…"

"And you're missing out."

"Oh, shut up." Alfred punched Matthew lightly on the arm before grinning. "I've missed our bro nights, you know?"

"Yeah, me too. It's too quiet when you're not here and being super noisy."

"Hey, I'm not that bad!"

"Sometimes you are… but that's okay. I swear, sometimes my neighbours forget I even live here."

"So make some noise! Blast music, drop things on the ground and cuss, all of that."

"I don't want to be a nuisance, though…"

"Fine, be a ghost. Just don't float through the walls!"

Matthew shook his head. "If I was a ghost, there would be much better places to haunt than here."

"Okay, true. Hey, let's just hope that your parents don't forget you're visiting and lock you outta the house!"

"It's getting way too cold for that."

…

Matthew packed an overnight bag when he got home from work on Friday, since he knew he'd only be staying at his parents' for two nights, leaving there early enough on Sunday if he wanted to get home at a decent hour. It wasn't really that far away, only an hour or so if you went the speed limit, but in heavy traffic, that was hell. That could take two or three hours.

Luckily, it wasn't too bad when he set out, and he managed to pull into the driveway of his old house around dinnertime. He let himself in, calling out, "Mom, Dad, I'm here!"

His mother ran over from the living room. "Sweetie! Good to see you!" She hugged him. "Traffic wasn't too bad?"

"Nope, not today. But I'm starving."

"Well, lucky for you, I was just about to serve dinner."

Matthew's father appeared and gave him a quick hug. "Hey there, Matt."

"Hi, Dad."

"You look tired."

"Work was pretty long today."

"I know the feeling. You know, your mother was waiting until you got here to serve dinner."

"I figured. How's Mrs. Jones?"

"Better than she was, even compared to just a few months ago."

"Good. I'll pop over tomorrow to say hi."

Matthew's mother called for them, yelling, "Boys, dinner! Now!"

"Coming, Mom!"

While they were eating, she asked, "So, you didn't bring Al with you?"

"Not this time. He was busy."

"Oh, okay." She went back to her food, and Matthew rolled his eyes, knowing she wanted details.

"He has something to do for work. If you're desperate to know, I can call him and ask."

"No, no. That's fine."

Matthew had reached into his pocket for his phone, and he frowned when he didn't find it. "Hang on, where's my phone?" He had brief memories of taking it out of his pocket when he got changed after work… and leaving it on the dresser. Damn. "I left it back at my place. Oh well."

"Hey, it's good to get away from technology for a while." Matthew's dad smiled. "Remember when we used to go camping in the summer?"

"Yeah. I kind of miss that. Except for the times we set up too close to the lake and got eaten alive by mosquitoes. Or whenever it rained and we woke up with wet sleeping bags. Or that one time you and Al's dad forgot the food…"

"And that's why I never went with you boys!" Matthew's mother was very proud of this, Matthew knew.

"Yeah, you and Al's mom would go to a spa while the rest of us ate s'mores and caught fish."

"Do you remember that one year you and Al got into the beer?" Matthew's dad laughed, shaking his head.

"You left the cooler wide open, and we were curious."

"Matt, you were fourteen. It wasn't just curiosity."

"Okay, maybe not. But it was interesting, eh?"

"Sure, I guess. Until you pissed on the campfire."

"He did _what?!_" This information was apparently new to Matthew's mom, judging by the look on her face.

Matthew shrugged. "I was fourteen, drunk for the first time in my life, and the fireplace seemed like a logical place at the time."

She sighed, shaking her head. "Men… now I'm definitely glad I never went with you."

"Honey, you missed the world's best belching contests."

"Yep, you did. I always lost, for some reason." Matthew shook his head, smiling. ""We should do that again one of these summers."

"We really should."

"Okay boys, no more talk of burping. Let's have a nice, civilised dinner for once. Matt, I set up your old room for you, okay?"

"Okay."

"And I know I've asked it countless times before, but are you sure you don't want to take your little bear with you?"

"I'm sure, Mom. I left it here for a reason when I moved out."

"If you say so, sweetie! Oh, and Mrs. Jones said you'd better go over and see her tomorrow."

"I'm planning on it, Mom. Don't worry."

And the next day, when Matthew went to see Al's mom, he was happy to see that she was smiling again. And sure, she was a little sad when Matthew told her that Alfred hadn't come along, but she shrugged and went to get him a cup of coffee. "Well, everyone gets busy. You want maple syrup in your coffee, right?"

"Yep, as always."

"It's good to see that some things don't change." She sat down across from Matthew and passed him his mug of coffee. "So, how have you been? It's been a while since you visited."

"I know. Life's been pretty busy lately. But things have been good. I'm kind of dating again, so that's… interesting."

"Good. And how's Al?"

"He's happy. And sort of hoping Arthur's going to propose soon."

"Oh?"

"He told me that. But don't get your hopes up about it."

"I'm guessing he told you that as well?"

"Yep."

"Well, whatever happens, as long as he's happy I don't mind."

"That's pretty much how I feel about it."

They talked for a little while longer, just about life and how things were going for the both of them. After clearing away their coffee cups, Mrs. Jones snapped her fingers. "Oh, I almost forgot!" She left the kitchen, talking over her shoulder to Matthew. "Al asked if I could mail him some stuff, but since you're here, can you take them to him instead?"

"Sure thing. I'm bringing a pie home for him from my mom, anyways. What's a little extra?"

She came back in with a box. "It's just some old photo albums from his room. I swear, there are more pictures of you and him together in here than anything else."

"Hey, it didn't help that you guys made us have joint birthday parties."

"You were only three days apart, and the two of you wanted to celebrate together anyways. Besides, it was cheaper to throw one party. Everyone benefited from it, if you ask me."

"Okay, true." Matthew flipped through one of the albums.

"Remember the year you had a cake in the shape of a cat?"

"Yep, I remember. I still don't know how you did it."

"Willpower and patience, that's how. If you ever have kids, you'll have to learn how to decorate cakes."

"Yikes. Remind me not to adopt anyone under the age of eight. Ever."

"Oh, kids are cute when they're little."

"And annoying."

"Hey, you were like that once!"

"I guess." Matthew shrugged, flipping a couple more pages and rolling his eyes when he landed on one particular picture. "Did you _really _have to take pictures of us in the bathtub?"

"Of course we did! Your mother has a copy of this one too."

"Yeah, I know. I remember you two conspired to send this picture into the school for the yearbook when we were in twelfth grade, and it ended up on the page where they show how you've grown up through the years. Everyone joked about us having naked pictures for _months_."

"Oh, come on. It wasn't _that_ embarrassing."

"Oh, yes it was. We're going to go back for our twenty-year reunion, and everyone's going to say 'Hey, it's the naked boys!' and I will blame you and my mother."

"Blame us all you like, Matt. It's adorable and you know it!"

"Sure, Mrs. Jones."

She ruffled his hair and smiled. "You've really grown up nicely, you know that?" Matthew shrugged, looking off to the side, and she shook her head. "Don't get all bashful on me. It's true and you know it."

"If you say so."

"Come on, Matt. Between you and Al, I'm sure plenty of hearts have been broken."

"Well, you've got that much right!"

"That's the spirit!"

Luckily, Mrs. Jones didn't seem to know that Matthew's heart was one of them. Matthew wasn't about to tell her, either.

…

He went home the next day, after lots of hugs from everyone and lots of promises that he'd visit again soon, that he'd bring Al with him next time, and that he'd call and skype and all of that. When he was finally in the car and driving away, he shook his head and smiled. He loved his family, but _boy_ they could drive him nuts sometimes. At least he could go home and relax a bit… after dropping stuff off at Al's, that is. Now, if Arthur wasn't there, that'd be even better. Matthew didn't really feel like pretending everything was okay and peachy perfect. He'd been doing enough of that over the weekend.

When he got to Al's, he found his arms too full to get the key out of his pocket, so he knocked on the door with his forehead. A little bit harder than he meant to, as it hurt a bit. He heard Alfred yell for Arthur to get the door, and Arthur reply that he was busy and Alfred should get the door. Alfred grumbled something about being tired and stressed out, and Matthew heard footsteps near the door.

Alfred opened the door, and before Matthew could say anything, Alfred leaned on the doorway and sighed. "Thank god, you're alive. Where the fuck _were_ you, Matt? I tried calling you like, ten times!"

"I was-"

"You were fucking off the grid, that's where! God, do you know how worried I was? I thought you'd gotten mugged or in a car crash or some psycho had stabbed you or something! And when I tried calling Francis, he didn't know where you were either. It was like you just disappeared or-"

"Al, listen to me."

"No, _you_ listen! With how weird you've been acting lately, I was thinking you'd just packed up and left or something, and I've been stressing out all weekend over _you_, you sonuvabitch, and suddenly you just pop up outta nowhere with a bunch of boxes? What the fuck!" He crossed his arms, glaring at Matthew, who burst out laughing. He couldn't help it.

"You seriously… Al, you're such an idiot sometimes!"

"Shut up and get your ass in here." Alfred pulled him into the apartment, closing the door behind him. "Where the hell were you?"

"Visiting Mom and Dad. I told you last weekend, remember?"

"No. And why wouldn't you pick up your phone?"

"Because I forgot it on my dresser at my place. Did you even drop by to see if I was home?"

"Yeah, of course I did! Yesterday and this morning."

"Okay, at least you did that much." Matthew put the boxes down. "Mom baked pie, and she sent me home with one for you. And your mom wanted me to give you some of your old photo albums."

"Yeah, whatever. And when did you say you were going out of town?"

"Last weekend. I _know_ I told you."

"Well, I sure as hell don't remember it! You had me all freaked out over nothing." Alfred shook his head and clenched his jaw, staring down at his feet.

Matthew shook his head and sighed, lowering his voice. "So much for being more attentive, eh?"

"Shut up. I'm trying, and you know it." Arthur, who had been just standing there looking a little surprised, opened his mouth to say something when Alfred interrupted him. "I've been trying really damn hard, okay? But when you're never around, it makes it hard. And it's like you're drifting away, Matt. You never come around anymore and you're always really distant and I don't _care_ if you're dating and shit, that doesn't give you a reason to be a douche! I've known you forever, shouldn't that count for something?"

"Of course it does. Don't be ridiculous, Al. I'm sorry I didn't remind you I was going out of town, okay? And I'm sorry I forgot my phone. I didn't realise I'd left it until I got there, and by then it was too late to go back and get it."

"And I'm sorry for being an idiot. You're right about that much." Alfred leaned on Matthew with a sigh.

Matthew rested one hand on Alfred's back and stroked his hair with the other. "We're all idiots here, Al. And I really am sorry. I didn't mean to vanish on you like that."

"It's okay. Just don't do it again."

"I won't. I promise."

"I was worried sick about you, Mattie."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"But you're okay, so… it's okay." Alfred sighed, and Matthew rested his head on Alfred's shoulder, smiling when Alfred followed suit.

"If it's really bugging you," he murmured, "Just come over and pester me if you think I'm being distant. I need someone to knock some sense into me every once in a while, and we both know you're really good at guilting me into doing things."

"Yeah, true." Alfred pulled back, clearing his throat. "Okay, you said something about Mom getting the photo albums?"

"Yep. They have all our baby pictures, by the way."

"Even the bathtub ones?"

"Even the bathtub ones."

"Oh, man." Alfred laughed, and Matthew shook his head.

"Your mom was going on about how cute we were, and…" he trailed off, seeing Arthur standing there with some kind of shell-shocked expression on his face.

Arthur pressed his lips together in a thin line and turned around, walking away. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"Okay, hon. Love ya!" Matthew could've sworn he heard Arthur mumble something along the lines of 'I'm sure you do,' before leaving the room, and Alfred shrugged. "Weird. I wonder what's got his panties in a twist. Well, whatever. What kind of pie is it?"

"Chocolate."

"Graham cracker crust?"

"You know it."

"Awesome. Seriously, your mom makes the best pie ever."

"And _your_ mom makes the best cookies ever."

"Yeah, they're pretty frickin' good. So, how's Mom?"

"My mom or yours?"

"Well, both."

"They're great. Your mom seems happy again."

"That's good. That's really good. Now I don't have to worry so much about her." Alfred smiled, and then he sighed, shaking his head. "And I really am sorry I forgot you were going outta town. Some best friend I am, huh?"

"Hey, it's okay."

"If you say so. Anyways… should we eat pie now?"

"Sure thing."

"Awesomesauce." Alfred cleared his throat and called out, "Hey, Art! You want any pie?"

"I'm quite all right, thank you. No pie for me."

"Okay, your loss! Matt, grab the milk."

They talked about Matthew's visit while they ate, which eventually circled back to Matthew's love life. Or rather, lack of a love life. "So you've got a date Friday night, right?"

"Yep. It'll be my second date with this guy."

"Coolio. What's he like?"

"Nice. And kind of nerdy, but in a cute way. He's a little quiet, but I think he's mostly being shy." And just so happened to kind of look like Alfred a little tiny bit… but that was just by chance.

"Is he foreign?"

"Yeah, he is. From Eastern Europe."

"One of the itty-bitty countries or one of the bigger ones?"

"One of the little countries."

"Fun! We should hang out Saturday. You can tell me about him then, if things go well. Or if things go badly, I still wanna know!"

"Oh, aren't you sympathetic."

"You betcha. Now hurry up and eat, or I'll finish your pie for you."

…

The night of his date, Matthew wasn't too nervous. They were just going to have a few drinks and chat, nothing serious or anything like that. Still, when he walked into the bar and saw the other man waiting for him, he knew he was a little bit anxious. His date just smiled brightly at him. "Good evening, Matthew."

"Hi, Eduard. How've you been?"

"Oh, I've been great. You?"

"I've been good. Sorry we couldn't meet up last weekend, I was visiting my parents."

"They live close?"

"Pretty close, about an hour or so away. I try to see them every few months."

"That's nice of you. You must love your parents."

"Yeah, I do. They've always been great and really supportive… my mom and dad actually bought me an air freshener that says 'so gay I can't even drive straight,' when I got my first car." Eduard laughed, and Matthew smiled. Yep, he looked _just_ enough like Alfred when he laughed. He ordered drinks for the two of them, asking Eduard, "So, how was your week?" Maybe this evening would turn out pretty nicely in the end.

About an hour (and a drink and a half) later, Matthew was feeling pretty comfortable about this whole thing when his phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to check who it was, and upon seeing that it was Arthur, furrowed his eyebrows. Well, _that_ was unexpected. "Sorry, I think I'd better take this."

"No problem!"

Matthew answered his phone. "Arthur? What is it?"

"Matthew, are you busy right now?"

"Well, yeah. I'm kind of on a date. Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly, but… I need to talk to you."

Matthew took another sip of his drink. "About what?"

"About Alfred."

"Okay…" He was genuinely confused. And curious. "Um, how about tomorrow?"

"I need to talk to you tonight."

"Fine, I'll see what I can do. I'll call you back later, okay?"

"All right."

Matthew hung up with a sigh. "Sorry about that. Something's up with my best friend, apparently."

"Oh, I understand. It's no trouble." Eduard glanced at his watch. "Well, it's getting late. I should get home."

"Yeah, me too." Matthew paid the tab (really, it wasn't all that expensive anyways), and decided he may as well be a little forward. He hugged Eduard. "Good night. I'll see you later, eh?"

"Sure thing. Call or text me whenever you're free."

"I will." And sure, maybe it didn't feel quite as right as hugging Al, but it was still pretty close. And just different enough… maybe this could actually work out.

When he left the bar, Matthew pulled his phone out and called Arthur. "Okay, I'm free. Where do you want to meet?"

"Is your place all right?"

"Sure. I'll be home in about ten minutes."

"All right. I'll see you then."

"Okay, bye."

Hopefully, Arthur wasn't going to come over with a loaded gun or anything. Matthew decided to keep his phone close, just in case. But when he let the Englishman in, he looked more tired and sad than anything else. "I can't stay too long. I told Alfred I was running to the store to see if they have the tea I like."

"Okay… what's going on?" God forbid Arthur pull anything weird and come onto him… that would _not_ be fun to explain to Alfred.

But no, Arthur sat down at the kitchen table and motioned for Matthew to sit across from him. "There's something I feel I should tell you." He waited until Matthew was seated before continuing, "Over the past few months, I've noticed that Alfred's been behaving differently."

"Well yeah, his dad died. That messed me up too, you know."

Arthur shook his head. "It's not just that. He's become much more distant, at least from me. And we both know he'd been clinging to you for more than usual up until just a couple weeks ago. It stopped for a while, but he's been slipping back into that."

"I told you, it's since his dad died."

"This started _before_ that, Matthew. Maybe you didn't notice, but I did." Arthur sighed. "I've been trying to deny it to myself for quite some time, but… I can't lie to myself any longer. It's time I admit this, for you and for me: Alfred's falling out of love with me."

Matthew shook his head, not believing it. "No. Maybe he's just having commitment issues. Have you thought about that?"

"It's certainly crossed my mind, but if that happens to be the case, it's not the problem. Not the _only_ problem, rather. I've seen the way he looks at you, Matthew. I've seen how he hangs off of you when he lets his guard down. That goes well beyond friendship, even for people as close as the two of you."

"But we—I mean, _he's _not…"

"He _is_, Matthew. That's just it. I know what he looks like when he's in love with someone. Only I used to be the one he looked at like that."

Matthew sighed. "Maybe you're right. I don't know. But why are you telling me all this?"

Arthur closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I… I'm planning to break off our relationship before this gets any worse. I don't want it to get to the point where I can't stand it anymore."

Matthew blinked a few times as that sunk in. "You're planning to do _what?"_

"Break up with him. I know it may not be what's best for me right now, but it's best for him. And it might save me pain in the long run."

Matthew took his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt. Arthur was saying exactly what Matthew had been feeling for the past few months, what had been his reasoning for trying to get over Alfred. So to hear Arthur use that as logic for breaking up with Al… that was too much. He couldn't believe it. "You're serious."

"Deadly serious." Arthur folded his hands in his lap. "I've told you before, I just want Alfred to be happy, however strange that may seem."

"No, I get it. This is just sort of sudden, I guess."

"It's been on my mind for a while now. And after he panicked when he didn't know where you were or if you were all right, I knew something had to change. And I knew I would have to be the one to make it happen. So… please don't tell Alfred about this. At least, not until long after he's forgotten about me."

"It'll be hard to forget two whole years."

"I know. I'm not looking forward to it either. But we'll both manage, I'm sure of it. Promise me you'll be here for him."

"Of course I will. I've always been here."

"I know. And that's why I need to do this. I've noticed you've been trying to distance yourself from Alfred lately, but… that won't be necessary anymore."

"Yeah. I know."

"Thank you, Matthew."

"Thanks to you too."

Arthur, who was getting up from the table, paused. "Pardon?"

"You're giving up someone really important to you. You're giving me a chance with Al. So… thank you."

Arthur nodded. "You're welcome. I… should probably get home now. It's late."

"Yeah. You do that."

"Goodbye, Matthew."

"Bye. Tell Alfred you love him tonight, okay?"

"I will."

When Matthew closed the door behind Arthur, he shook his head a few times. That was completely unexpected, and he didn't know what to think. Would Arthur actually go through with that? Should he really believe what he said? There was only one way to find out… he'd have to wait and see.

…

The next day, he decided to go about life as normal. If Arthur was going to break up with Al, like he said he would, he'd probably wait a few days. So Matthew ran a few errands, did his laundry, then realised the only long-sleeved shirt he had that wasn't in the wash was the really comfy sweater he had borrowed from Al the day after his dad died, and had apparently forgotten to give back. Well, wasn't _that _a cheery thought. He wore it anyways, deciding it was better to be a little sad than cold all day, and he was busy lying on his bed, wondering if he was on the brink of another stupid existential crisis, when he heard a key turn in the lock of his door.

Matthew sat up, wondering what the odds were that Arthur had already broken up with Al. It was only four p.m., and he and Alfred had made plans earlier that day to hang out in the evening, so the odds were still pretty slim, right? Just in case, he got up off his bed as the door opened. "Hi, Al," he called out.

When the reply was only a quiet "Hey," he went out to the living room. Alfred did not look happy. Apparently, the odds were a lot greater than Matthew had anticipated. So much for wondering if Arthur would actually go through with it…

"What's wrong, Al?"

"He dumped me, Matt. Arthur fucking _dumped_ me." Alfred shook his head, staring at his feet.

Matthew stepped forward, closing the door behind Alfred. "I'm sorry. Do you-"

"I just need-" Alfred grabbed Matthew by the front of his shirt suddenly, burying his face in Matthew's chest. Matthew put a hand on the back of Alfred's head, holding him there gently. He was used to this much, since comforting Alfred after a break-up wasn't new to him. But this would probably be a lot worse than any of the other times.

"Come on," he murmured. "Take off your shoes and tell me what happened."

Alfred barely pulled away to kick off his shoes before he was right up against Matthew's chest again. Matthew guided him over to the couch, sitting down. Alfred pulled his feet up under himself and laid his head on Matthew's shoulder.

Alfred sighed. "He fucking packed a suitcase while I was busy playing my game, and then when I'm sitting there and reading the newspaper, he comes over and says there's something he needs to tell me. So I put down the paper, wondering what he's gonna do and hoping he's gonna propose or some shit like that, when he drops the 'this relationship is over' bomb on me and gets his bag and leaves!" He shook his head. "And the whole time, I'm just sitting there and hoping he's joking. And when I realize he's serious, I want to yell at him and tell him to shut up and stay and that I love him, but all I can do is ask why. And do you know what he says?"

Matthew could guess, but he wasn't going to say a thing. "What did he say?"

"He says, 'there's someone who could make you far happier, all you have to do is look around you a little,' and I ask him what the fuck that's supposed to mean. He makes me happy, and that's all that matters to me." Alfred's voice cracked a bit, and he cleared his throat. "But he just shakes his head and leaves, telling me to forget him. Two whole years, Matt. Two _fucking_ years. And I'm supposed to forget that?"

"I know." Matthew put an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "I know."

"Jesus, Matt… what do I do? I was expecting to get engaged, not to end up single and confused and why do guys always dump me? It's always the same excuse, too! Like, who the fuck is gonna make me happier, do they think?"

Matthew could feel his heart sink with a bit of guilt. This was the first time Alfred had ever mentioned this to him. So he had been what caused the end of a lot of Alfred's relationships, and none of his ex-boyfriends had ever talked to Matthew about it. Except for Arthur… now he felt like an awful person. "I don't know, Al. It's just an excuse."

Alfred sighed. "I know, but it sucks."

"I can't argue with you there." Matthew squeezed Alfred lightly. "Do you want me to run and get us some dinner?"

Alfred sat up suddenly, holding onto him and shaking his head. "Don't leave."

"I'm not going to, Al. Not yet. Just tell me when you get hungry, okay?"

"Okay." Alfred still didn't let go of him, and Matthew stroked his hair gently.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere."

"You'd better not. First I lost Dad, now Arthur, and if I lose you…"

"You won't."

"Last week, I thought I lost you."

"But you didn't. And I'm here, and I always will be. It's okay, Al. Everything's going to be okay."

Alfred buried his face in Matthew's shoulder, voice muffled as he mumbled, "You'd better be right."

"Have I been wrong about this before?"

"No."

"And do you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Good." Matthew closed his eyes for a second, opening them again when Alfred pulled away. He curled up beside Matthew on the couch and laid his head in Matthew's lap, facing away from him.

"Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do that thing?"

"What thing?"

"The thing you do where you like, massage my head and it makes me calm down."

"Of course." Matthew laid a hand on Alfred's head, rubbing gently. "Just relax, okay?"

"I'll try. And can I stay the night here?"

"You know you can. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. Mattie?"

"Yeah?"

"You're seriously the best, you know that?"

Matthew smiled. "Only because it's for you, Al. Now really, relax. You're ridiculously tense."

"Yeah. Sorry."

Later that evening, Matthew went out to get them dinner (fast food with extra-large fries for Al, because that's what he always wanted anyways), and stopped by the grocery store to buy some ice cream. Sure, it was getting too cold for it, but Alfred wouldn't care anyways.

When he got back, Alfred was lying on the couch just like Matthew had left him, flipping through channels on the television. While Matthew kicked off his shoes, Alfred happened to land on a romantic movie, where the hero was in the middle of proposing to the heroine. "Fuck you!" Alfred yelled, turning off the television. Matthew stifled a laugh behind his hand, and Alfred looked over his shoulder. He met Matthew's eyes and they both smiled, Matthew still laughing a bit and shaking his head.

He cleared his throat. "I got us food."

"Yeah, I can see that. And what's in the other bag?"

"Ice cream."

"Mattie, you're the best. I know I've said it like, a thousand times, but I really mean it."

"I know you do. Now sit up or scoot over, I'm not going to sit on you."

"C'mon, you're not that heavy."

"I'll feel guilty if I suffocate you."

"Fine, fine. I'll move."

After dinner, where Alfred pretended he wasn't stealing Matthew's fries and Matthew pretended he didn't notice, Alfred sighed. "Can I borrow pajamas?"

"No Al, I'm going to make you sleep naked."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"Do you want the blue flannel ones?"

"Sure."

"I'll get them for you whenever you want them. And why is my phone buzzing?"

"You tell me, Mr. Popular. Is it your Bulgarian dude?"

"Estonian. And no, it's Francis." Matthew answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Matt! You busy?"

"Gilbert, why do you have Francis' phone?"

"Because I'm awesome like that. Come out for drinks."

"I'm sort of busy, Gil."

"Oh, you're on a date! I get it."

"No, actually. I'm busy with Al."

"Bring him with you."

"Uh, that's kind of not an option."

There was a brief pause before Gilbert asked, "What, are you two fucking or something?"

Matthew rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation. "No, you dork. But-"

"So come on! Unless someone's dead, no excuses."

"Arthur and Alfred broke up this afternoon."

"Oh. Well, shit. Are you serious?"

"Completely serious."

"Wow. Hey guys, Alfred's single as of today!" Through the phone, Matthew could hear Antonio and Francis express surprise in their own ways, clapping on Antonio's part, and a drawn out 'Noooo… are you sure? That's wonderful!' from Francis.

Matthew rolled his eyes again, and Alfred mouthed 'what are they doing?' He mouthed back 'being idiots,' before talking to Gilbert. "So, does that qualify as a good reason?"

"_Ja,_ of course! Give him a sympathy hug from us. Have a good night!"

"You too. Bye." Matthew hung up, putting his phone away. "They were going out and wanted us to tag along."

"You said no?"

"Of course I did."

"Thanks. I'm not up to that right now."

"I know."

"So… how do you want to spend the night?"

"You tell me."

"Well, what were you planning to do before I came over?"

"Sit around and ponder the complexities of the universe and why humans are such strange creatures."

"With booze?"

"Always."

"I think I'd like to join you in doing that." Alfred smiled.

"Okay. Do you want beer or something else?"

"Beer's good."

So they spent the evening lying on the floor and talking about nothing in particular, occasionally passing a bottle of beer back and forth. Alfred sighed. "I just wish I could be done with this whole relationship thing. Dating sucks."

"Tell me about it. Why do you think I'm having so much trouble?"

"Because you're awkward and kind of a dork."

"Touché. But at least you can hold a relationship down for more than a couple months."

"And then get my heart crushed and curl up in a little ball of angst on the couch."

"True, but you can fall in love with the people you date. I don't do that." Matthew sipped a bit of beer. "Hell, I don't even know if I'll be able to make it work with Eduard. He's nice and sweet and attractive, but he's just not… there's not that sort of feeling, you know?"

"What kind of feeling?"

"I don't ever really look forward to seeing him, and I don't get that sort of fluttery feeling when he laughs at something I say or if our hands touch or anything."

"So you're not in love with him?"

"Nope. At least, not yet. I'm sort of hoping it might work out that way…" Unless he got absolute proof that Arthur was right about Alfred falling for him. Then he'd drop everyone. Francis, Eduard, they wouldn't matter anymore. At least not in that way.

Alfred shook his head. "Man. At this rate, you're gonna end up like Gilbert. Hey, maybe you two can-"

"Al, he's my boss. I am _not_ going to date my boss."

"Who said anything about dating? I was gonna say, maybe you two can be lonely old bachelors together."

"Oh. Okay."

"But if you wanna date him, go for it! You'd just have to tell me if his pubes are white, like his hair."

Matthew cringed. "Ugh… Al, no! Bad mental image. Now I need brain bleach."

"And you can't un-think it, can you?"

"No. I blame you for this one."

Alfred chuckled, grabbing the beer and winking at Matthew as he took a swig. "You can't say you've never wondered."

"Actually, I never thought about it before now. Thanks a lot…" Matthew shivered, and Alfred laughed quietly, staring up at the ceiling. His smile softened, turning into an almost pensive expression, and Matthew felt his heart speed up a little bit. There was that damn fluttery feeling he could never shake. He looked away.

"You know," Alfred murmured, "You're always here to make me feel better after a break-up, but I'm never there for you."

"That's because when my relationships end, I'm either the one to end them or the feeling is mutual."

"True. Damn, I'm just crappy dating material, aren't I?"

"No, you end up dating a lot of douchebags. Or it just isn't meant to be."

"So, was Arthur a douchebag or one of the other cases?"

"One of the other cases."

"You're not just saying that to make me feel better, right?"

"No. He was a good guy. Sure, I didn't really like him, but that's mostly because I want to make sure you end up with someone who's really good for you."

"Okay." Alfred sighed. "I think I'm gonna go to bed."

"I'll get you the pajamas."

"Thanks. Is my spare toothbrush still here?"

"Yep. And it's the blue one, _not_ the red one. The red one is mine."

"Right."

When Alfred was getting ready for bed and Matthew was getting into his own pajamas, he realised he had left his pajama shirt on the kitchen counter that morning (how did _that_ happen? It was probably before he had his coffee) for some reason. So he snagged it off the counter and headed back to his room. As he slipped his arms through the sleeves, he heard Alfred say his name.

"Mattie?"

He turned around immediately, hands about to do up the first button. "Yeah, Al?"

"I'm gonna hit the hay now."

"Okay. You do that. And if you wake up before me, at least try to be sort of quiet, eh?"

"Yeah, I know. Good night."

He looked like he really needed a hug, so Matthew walked over and pulled Alfred into his arms. "Good night. Sleep tight, sweet dreams."

"Yeah. You too." Alfred's hands were cold when he rested them on Matthew's waist. Alfred was hardly ever cold, so that was kind of strange… unless he gone out on the balcony or something like that. Matthew decided it didn't really matter, and he squeezed Alfred gently.

"Okay. Just wake me up when you get hungry. I'll make pancakes, all right?"

"All right. I'll wake you up."

Matthew stepped back, buttoning up his shirt. "And I'll lend you clothes tomorrow, too."

"Thanks. You're the best, Matt."

"Only for you, Al."

"Yeah. Love ya."

"I love you too."

It dawned on Matthew as he was getting into bed that maybe it wasn't the best idea to try to get over Alfred while he was still telling Al that he loved him. And actually meaning what he said. In one way, he'd been telling Alfred he loved him for years, but Al never interpreted it in that way. But now… now that everything in his life seemed to be telling him to finally just suck it up and tell Alfred how he really felt, he didn't know what he could do to show it.

Matthew knew he would have to wait, of course, until he was more than certain that Al was over Arthur. But when that time came, he would finally speak up. He'd been silent about it all these years, waiting and hoping and always choking on his words whenever he tried to say something about it. He took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table, knowing that he would be ready when it was time.

* * *

_Do you see what I meant by 'important stuff' now? Well, either way, I'm hoping it was worth the wait. As always, thanks for reading, any and all feedback is appreciated, and please point out any grammar or spelling mistakes you see!_


	8. Chapter 7

_Finally finished this chapter! I know I haven't updated in a while, but life's been really busy. I don't have as much time to write as I wish I did. Anyways, here's hoping I won't be so busy in the future._

_As always, thank you to everyone who's reviewed! Getting feedback from you people makes me very happy._

* * *

A couple weeks later, Matthew was checking his email after getting home from work when Alfred came in carrying a couple boxes and a suitcase. He set them all down with a sigh. "Arthur's finished moving out."

"So what's this?"

"My stuff. Well, some of it. I'm moving out too. It's just… I can't stay there anymore, yanno? Makes me too depressed."

"I get it."

"Yeah." Alfred shrugged. "So… I'm gonna start looking for a new place soon, then I'll be outta your hair."

"Take as long as you need. You know I don't mind having you here."

"Okay." Alfred wheeled the suitcase off to the guest bedroom. "I finally got all my clothes over here, at least. Do you want the socks I've stolen from you back?"

"If they're in good shape, sure. Don't bother if they have holes in them." Matthew went back to typing on his laptop.

"Right. Whatcha doing?"

"Emailing my grandma."

"The one who lives in Quebec?"

"Yep. She's turning eighty tomorrow, and I want to make sure the card I sent her actually got there in time."

"Oh, okay." Alfred sat down on the couch rather heavily. "Oof. Hey, do you mind helping me find a decent place?"

"I don't mind. Two minds are better than one."

"Yeah. Thanks, Mattie."

"No problem." Matthew sent the email he was working on and smiled at Alfred. "That's what friends are for."

"True. Hey, can you make stir-fry tonight?"

"Sure. I think I have enough in the fridge… help me get the veggies ready, will you?"

"Right." Alfred hopped up off the couch to help.

After dinner, Matthew was sitting on the couch, listening to music and doodling on his notes from the meeting he had earlier that day. He tapped his foot absentmindedly, smiling when he reached a point in his notes where he had gotten distracted by a bird on the windowsill for a couple minutes. He thought he heard something, so he pulled out an earphone to listen for a moment. Nope, nothing. Probably just an upstairs neighbour dropping something. Whoever that guy was, he sure was clumsy. Matthew shrugged and put his earphone back in, going back to his notes. He was supposed to give a little motivational speech to his project team the next day, and that little section where the bird had been the focus of his attention was bugging him. What had Gil been talking about before that sparrow came along, anyways?

"Hey, Matt?"

Matthew paused his music, turning around. "What is it, Al?"

He was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, staring at his feet with his hands shoved in his pockets. "I just… I mean, I know you like your place and all, but do you wanna be roommates when I find a place?"

Matthew thought for a second. If things actually did work out and Arthur was right, that would be a good thing. But if Arthur was wrong, it would make it that much more difficult for him to get over Alfred. Only one way to find out, though. "Sure. But it has to have a shower-bathtub, not just a shower stall."

"I know. You and your bubble baths…"

"There's a reason a lot of places have bathtubs. It's relaxing, you know."

"Yeah, but I just get bored sitting around in the water."

"Because you don't know how to meditate."

"Well, that's part of it. It doesn't help that I've got the attention span of a squirrel on Red Bull… I always get so distracted!"

"By what?" Matthew wondered what Alfred could find distracting about a bath.

"Bubbles, whatever I can hear going on outside the bathroom, my dick, all that good stuff." Alfred shrugged.

Matthew just raised his eyebrows. "You get distracted by your own dick."

"Well, yeah. I don't exactly think about it all the time, so whenever I look down I'm like, 'hello, I'm naked!' and that turns into me thinking that I don't see myself naked all that often." Alfred paused. "Other people don't see me naked often either. Thought I should add that."

"If you were a closet nudist, I'm pretty sure I'd know by now. But now that you mention it, I'm not naked all that often either."

"See? I mean sure, you can't really find excuses to walk around in the buff all that often, so…"

"True. How did we get on this topic, anyways?"

"Uh… bathtubs, I think?"

"Oh, right. So when do you want to start going out and looking at places?"

"Next week okay with you? This way we can pick some out and talk to the landlords ahead of time."

"Sounds good."

"Okay! Well, I'm gonna go to bed now. And I have my own pajamas tonight!"

"Congratulations. You get a gold star." Matthew went back to his notes.

Alfred sighed. "And _you_ get a frowny face, you sarcastic bastard."

"As long as I get something, I'm happy." Matthew still had no idea what he had meant when he wrote 'Money and stuff. Use it but not too much.'

"Yeah, yeah. Don't stay up too late, 'kay? Even if you aren't tired."

"I know. I'm just going to finish reading over this, and then I'm going to bed."

"Okay. G'night."

"Sleep tight."

"You too. Love you, man."

"Love you too, Al. Good night."

…

A couple days later, Matthew was eating lunch with the guys when Gilbert asked, "Hey, you all free this Saturday? I know a guy who can get us really cheap tickets to that music festival going on downtown this weekend."

"I'm free! Lovi, you want to come?"

"Whatever. And don't call me Lovi."

Francis shrugged. "I should be free. Matthew?"

"Well, I'm looking at a couple apartments that afternoon, but…"

"Hang on, apartments?" Gilbert tilted his head.

"Yeah. Alfred and I are going to be moving as soon as we find a decent place."

Francis frowned. "Are you sure that's for the best? I mean, not to sound rude, but… is being close to Alfred really the best thing for you right now?"

"I know, Francis. Don't worry. We were roommates all through university, and pretty much right up until he and Arthur started living together, I can deal with it. Really. But there is something I didn't tell any of you guys yet."

Toni put down his fork. "We're listening."

"The night before he broke up with Al, Arthur came over to my place. No, not for anything like _that_," he added as Gilbert opened his mouth to speak. "He wanted to talk. About how he thought Alfred's fallen in love with me."

"Ah." Toni shrugged. "Well, he _is_ pretty protective of you, we've all noticed that."

"And affectionate," Gilbert added.

"Yes, but… he's always been like that. At least, I _think_ so. But I'm not going to do anything about it right now. I know it's going to take him a while to get over Arthur, and I don't want to be a rebound fling or something like that."

Francis nodded. "I understand. But why are you two moving in together?"

"Well, he asked me to, and-"

Gilbert interrupted him with a sigh. "Matt, is _everything_ you do in your life just for Alfred?"

Matthew frowned. "No, not everything. Just… a lot of things. But-"

"Start living your life for yourself a little."

"I _do_, but a lot of the things I want are things Alfred wants too, so…" Gilbert raised an eyebrow skeptically as Matthew trailed off. "Really! And sure, I go out of my way for him sometimes, but he does the same for me."

"Fine. But I don't want to hear you whining about any of the extra stuff you do for Al. You're bringing that upon yourself."

"Okay…" Matthew wasn't really sure what Gilbert was talking about.

Until that evening when he got home from work, that is. Alfred was already home, watching television upside down, his feet hanging over the back of the couch. He waved his foot at Matthew when the door closed behind him. "Hiya, Matt!"

"Hi. What on earth are you doing?"

"Got bored. So I decided, why not switch things up a bit?"

"Okay then. Whatever floats your boat." Matthew walked past the couch to put his things away in his room, squeezing one of Alfred's feet and making him spaz out and nearly fall off the couch with a squawk that morphed into a laugh.

"Dude, don't do that!"

"Still ticklish, eh?"

"Maybe. But only when I'm not expecting it."

"If you say so."

"It's true!" Alfred righted himself on the couch, straightening his glasses and fixing his mussed-up hair. "Oh, by the way, I've looked up a couple places. I can show 'em to you after dinner."

"What's for dinner, anyways?"

"No clue. It's my turn tonight, right?"

"I think so."

"Ugh… fine. Prepare for microwaved frozen vegetables and grilled cheese sandwiches. You want ham on yours?"

"On the vegetables?" Matthew asked, smiling when Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Yes, on the vegetables. Because everyone knows lunch meat and frozen peas go _great_ together. Whaddya think?"

"I'll take ham on the sandwich."

"Thought so. How was your day?"

"Long. But not bad. You?"

"Same, I guess. Hey, come keep me company in here. I hate cooking alone."

"Right, coming."

After dinner, Alfred pulled out his laptop to show Matthew the apartments he'd been looking at. "Now, this one's right next to a park, and there's only a tiny little side street right below it, so it'd be pretty quiet. It's in a great part of town, too. But _this_ one has a grocery store literally right next door to it, and for the other one, it's at least a five minute walk to the closest one. Also, it has one of those rooftop garden things, and it's pretty cool. Plus we'd have a balcony."

"Which one's cheaper?"

"Careful, Matt. Your Scottish is showing."

"Being frugal is normal. And just because my great-grandparents moved to Canada from the Highlands…"

"Still makes you a stingy S.O.B. some of the time."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say. And you still didn't answer my question."

"Oh, right. The one by the park's cheaper. And it's like, _exactly_ in between where we work."

"That's good. I don't think the carpool would even have to change."

"Probably not." Alfred stretched and yawned. "So, you wanna check that one out on Saturday?"

"Sure."

"Awesome. I'll call the landlord tomorrow, unless you wanna."

"I'm more likely to remember. I'll call."

"Thanks. You're always looking out for me, aren't cha?"

Matthew shrugged. "I guess."

"Seriously, I mean it. You know whenever I'm gonna forget something and when I need to be reminded and stuff."

"We've known each other for over twenty-five years, Al. And it's pretty obvious when you're forgetting to wear socks or comb your hair."

"Yeah, I know. But still." He elbowed Matthew lightly. "It's like your mom and dad. They always know when one of them forgets something."

"Did you _really_ just compare us to my parents?"

"I guess."

"Great. So now I'm fifty-three years old. I'd better go take a shower, it'll soothe my arthritis."

Alfred laughed. "Nice."

"But really, I am going to go take a shower." When Matthew got into the bathroom and looked around for his towel, he sighed. "Al, where's my towel?"

"Oh, was yours the one with the feather design thing on the border?"

"Yes."

"Whoops. Sorry, dude."

Matthew stepped out into the hall and grabbed a new towel out of the linen cupboard. "You know, if you just hung your towels up, we wouldn't have this problem."

"Hanging towels up is for pussies." Matthew rolled his eyes, ignoring Alfred's comment in favour of getting in the shower. When he was soaping up his hair, he heard the bathroom door open. "Just me! I'm grabbing my toothbrush."

"Go ahead."

The door closed, and then reopened. "I think I might want the toothpaste, too."

"Sounds like a plan." Matthew rinsed his hair, thinking back on what Gilbert had said. He did do an awful lot for Al, all things considered. But why? Was it just because that was what best friends were supposed to do, or was it just another way of trying (and failing) to show how he felt without actually showing it? Either way, whatever made Alfred happy was best, so Matthew decided he didn't really care.

He soaped himself up, rinsed off, and got out of the shower. After he dried his hair and wrapped a towel around his waist, he inspected his reflection in the mirror. Anyone in his place would do the same, right? Going out of your way to make the person you loved happy was normal. Besides, it helped Matthew reassure himself that he was doing all that he could. That was the only thing he could think of as a real reason. He sighed, picking his hairbrush up off the bathroom counter and taming the mess of hair on his head.

Alfred ducked back in to drop off his toothbrush and the toothpaste, which Matthew didn't really notice until Alfred hugged him suddenly, nearly making him jump. "Good night, Mattie. I gotta get up extra early for a meeting tomorrow, so I'm gonna go to bed early."

"Okay. Good night."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

…

That weekend, he and Alfred drove out to the apartment by the park, to look and see if it was what they were looking for. The landlord showed them in right away, and Matthew was impressed. It was a nice place, considering the rent wasn't ridiculously high.

"So it's not pre-furnished?" he asked, just wanting to be sure.

"Well, the kitchen appliances and bathroom fixtures are here to stay, obviously. Unless you want to change them, that is. The kitchen table and the desk in the office are part of the deal as well. The girl moving out of here doesn't want to take them."

"Great. Al, since your place was mostly Arthur's furniture, do we want to bring the stuff from my apartment?"

"Yeah. But not the ugly lamp. And we should get an actual armchair too, instead of just having a couch."

"Okay, just not the ugly lamp. But everything else?"

"Sounds like a plan." Alfred turned to the landlord. "So, what's the move-in date?"

"Say, three weeks from today?" He shrugged. "That way you have time to make arrangements."

"Great. Well, I think we're ready to sign. Matt?"

"Hm? Oh, right."

They left, both of them shaking hands with the landlord. He looked between Alfred and Matthew before he quietly asked Matthew, "Are the two of you together?"

"Oh, no. We're just best friends."

"I see. I was just curious. Either way, it doesn't matter to me, but…"

"I get it. You want to know what the relationships between your renters are."

"Exactly. Thank you for understanding."

When they were back in the car, Alfred driving back to Matthew's, he asked, "So, what he'd say to you?"

"Who?"

"The landlord. Right when we were leaving."

"He was wondering if we were together."

Alfred drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. "Ugh. Traffic sucks today… so, you mean in a relationship kind of together?"

"Yeah."

"Some people think we're brothers, some people think we're dating… don't think I've had anyone ask if we're brothers who are also dating. Well, yet."

"That'll be the day."

"Yeah. So, three weeks… I guess now we get to arm-wrestle to see who gets the more comfy bed, huh?"

"No way." Matthew shook his head. "I'm keeping my bed, and we both know you always beat me at arm-wrestling."

"C'mon, your bed is so soft! The other one sucks, and I get weird dreams when I sleep there."

"So get one of those cushion things that goes on top of the mattress. I'm not sharing." Matthew blinked. "I'm not giving it up, I mean. Or sharing, for that matter."

"We used to sleep in the same bed when we were kids, remember?"

"Yeah, when we were kids. Then you started hogging all the blankets."

"And you _still _sleep-talk. Really loud, by the way, I can hear you from across the apartment."

"What do I say?"

Alfred shrugged. "Stupid stuff." He glared at the car in front of him. "Find your accelerator, grandma! The light's green! Anyways, the other night, you said 'no, not the potatoes!' and I was kind of confused."

Matthew shrugged. "I don't recall dreaming about potatoes. Though I did dream about Christmas dinner… maybe that was it."

"I dunno. All I know is that was the same night I had a weird-ass dream. It was about—oh, hang on, we're here." He pulled into Matthew's usual parking spot, undoing his seatbelt and turning the car off. "So, it was one of those dream-memory things, you know?"

"I get those sometimes."

"Yeah. We were teenagers again, for some reason, and we were in my basement, watching a horror movie. I was about to tell you something when we both freaked out because of some monster on the screen. Then things got _really_ weird and this monster-alien thing jumped out of the screen. You tried to reason with it and be peaceful, but then it turned into a dragon and tried to kill us. I was about to grab a sword and fight it to the death but no… you had to wake me up by shouting about potatoes."

"Sorry for ruining your dragon-slayer dream."

"Meh. I probably would've won, but whatever. Dream me is a lot more badass than real life me."

"I know the feeling. And you always wake up at the best parts."

"Yeah." They were walking up the stairs to the apartment, Alfred playing with the keys and smiling absentmindedly. "But at least when that happens with bad dreams, you know it's over."

"True." Matthew caught up to Alfred, seeing his smile fade. Matthew narrowed his eyes. He had thought Alfred being cheery and happy all the time was odd, even if he did normally bounce back pretty quickly after breakups. But if it was just an act, that made sense. He made a mental note to talk to Alfred about it later. "Are you going to the concert tonight?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Nah. I thought about it, but I decided to stay home tonight." Alfred shrugged.

"Okay. I'm just going to pop some leftovers in the microwave tonight, so you're on your own for dinner."

"Gotcha. I promise I might do my dishes." Alfred winked, opening the door to the apartment and tossing Matthew his keys. "You driving there tonight?"

"No, Toni's picking me up. Lovino apparently lives just up the road."

"Hooray for carpools. Have fun tonight, dude."

Matthew ate dinner and put his dishes in the dishwasher, then felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He went out to the living room, where Alfred was reading a magazine, a prominent frown on his face. "Hey, Al?"

He looked up and grinned right away. "Yeah, Matt?"

"Toni's here."

"M'kay." He got up and hugged Matthew. "Tell the guys I say hi."

"I'll tell them. And I'm probably going to be home late, so don't bother waiting up or anything. Go to bed when you get tired."

"Yeah, I will. Don't worry." Alfred rolled his eyes. "Now go on, get outta here."

When Matthew got home, Alfred was curled up on the couch, fast asleep, with a blanket covering his legs, the T.V. still on. Matthew turned it off and gently shook Alfred's shoulder. "Hey. Wake up, Al."

Alfred blinked a few times, looking up at Matthew. "Mattie?"

"Yeah. You fell asleep on the couch."

"Oh." Alfred sat up with a yawn. "Okay. Thanks for wakin' me up."

"No problem."

Alfred stood up, noticed one of his feet was bare, and picked his sock up off the floor. "That's why my foot's cold. I hate kicking socks off in my sleep. You goin' to bed now?"

"Yep. I'm planning to make French toast tomorrow, by the way."

"Awesome. Fancy food. What's the special occasion?"

"There isn't one, really. Well, we're moving, if you want to call that a special occasion."

"Close enough. Wake me up for breakfast, 'kay?"

"I will. Good night."

"G'night. Love ya."

"Love you too."

So maybe Matthew was only planning an actual sit-down breakfast so he could talk to Alfred about what was obviously bugging him, but if it served a dual purpose, even better.

…

He woke up the next morning to the sounds of cars honking at each other, and put a pillow over his face. It was Sunday morning. Couldn't people take a break from the road rage? Matthew reached for his glasses, knocked them on the floor, and sighed before picking them up. He got dressed and washed his face before going to wake Alfred up. He found Alfred smiling peacefully, his arms wrapped around one of the extra pillows on the bed. Matthew almost hated to wake him up, but he nudged Alfred lightly. When all he got was a quiet grumble in response, he reached over and pinched Alfred's cheek. "Wake up, Al."

"It's still dark out. 'M not getting' up."

"It's only dark because the blinds are shut. Come on, I'll get coffee going for you."

"…fine. I call dibs on the shower, though." Alfred fumbled around for his glasses, shoving them on his face clumsily. He made a face. "My neck's stiff."

"Getting arthritis already, eh? Maybe we really are turning into my parents."

"Har, har. Very funny. I wish, though. It'd give us an excuse to move to Florida or Arizona or somewhere warm." He yawned, getting up and combing his hair down with one hand. "We're supposed to get a ton of snow here this winter."

"I know. But at least they actually clear the roads properly here."

"Yeah, true. M'kay, shower time."

"I'll get breakfast on."

"Make it with lots of cinnamon. Oh, and can I have whipped cream on mine?"

"You're a grown man, Al. You can make your own dietary choices."

"Yeah, I'm having whipped cream. Get it outta the fridge for me, will ya?"

"Of course. You want the usual in your coffee?"

"Yeah. Loads of sugar. Sugar and caffeine go great together."

"You bet they do." Matthew left, going to the kitchen to start cooking. When Alfred got out of the shower, he was much more awake.

"Good morning!"

"I see Mr. Sunshine is back."

"Hey, you're no angel when you wake up either."

"Oh, I know. Food's almost ready, so just hang tight for a minute."

"Okay!" Alfred grabbed his coffee off the counter and took a sip. "So, how was the concert?"

"It was pretty good. The opening band was actually almost as good as the people we went to see."

"That's good. Meet anyone nice?"

"Not really." Matthew flipped over the French toast to check it. "A lot of college student-hipster types were there, and they seemed to think I was one of them."

"It's the skinny jeans, Matt. I've told you before: always the damn skinny jeans."

"Maybe you're right."

"I _know_ I'm right." Alfred sat down at the table, putting his feet up on it. "Is the food done yet?"

"Yep." Matthew turned around. "And get your feet off the table."

"C'mon, they're clean. I just showered."

"I don't care. Clean or not, feet do _not_ belong on the kitchen table. And your feet are going to get cold unless you put socks on."

"Socks are for pussies. And fine, I'll move my feet." He lowered his feet, rolling his eyes. "You're just like Arthur that way."

"Any civilised human being would tell you to take your feet off the table, really."

"Whatever."

Matthew sat down with their food and passed Alfred a plate. "Here. Eat up."

"Yay!" Alfred dug in after dousing his French toast with whipped cream. Matthew poured some maple syrup on his before eating, though with slightly less ferocity than Alfred.

"You know," he said, "You don't need to put on a brave face around me."

"Huh?" Alfred looked up from his plate. "Whaddya mean?"

"You still miss Arthur, and we both know it. So don't pretend you're happy and all of that when you aren't. It's not fooling me, okay?"

Alfred sighed, his face falling. He put his fork down and leaned on his hand. "I'm just tired of moping around and having everyone feel bad for me. I mean, at work, everyone's like, 'Oh, it's Al. Look out, his dad died and his boyfriend dumped him. Let's throw him a pity party!' and it's driving me up the wall. I don't _want_ people feeling sorry for me or worrying or anything like that."

"Al, if anyone should be allowed to worry about you, it should be me." Matthew put a hand on Alfred's arm. "Don't hide anything from me, okay?"

"Yeah. I know. And it's not like I don't trust you or something dumb like that, I just don't want to concentrate on being sad anymore, you know? Arthur's gone, we're done, and there's no going back. So I just want to move on and get it over with." He sighed again, looking down at the kitchen table.

Matthew nodded. "I get what you're saying, but you can't just bottle everything up and not tell anyone."

"Yeah. Sorry." Alfred scooted closer to Matthew, leaning on him just a little. "It helps, knowing you're here. You've _always_ been here."

"Of course I have. We're best friends, and I care _way _too much about you to ignore this."

Alfred just closed his eyes and leaned on Matthew more. "I know." He shrugged. "I'm just happy I have you." Matthew knew without asking that Alfred wanted a hug, so he pulled him closer and patted him on the back lightly. Alfred smiled a little and rested his head on Matthew's shoulder. "This shirt is really soft. Is it one of mine?"

"Maybe. I don't really know."

"I'll have to steal it back sometime. You know, when people say that being gay lets you double your wardrobe, I don't think they mean it the way we do it." Alfred shook his head. "Especially since I never could've worn any of Arthur's clothes. They'd all be way too small. Except maybe his socks. But I like borrowing your stuff."

"And by borrowing, you mean stealing."

"Hey, you do it too."

"I know." Matthew let go of Alfred and pushed his glasses up his nose a bit. "At the new place, should we just have a closet we share? I'll keep my socks and underwear, but you always make a mess of my drawers when you're trying to find something you want to wear."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Alfred looked back at his plate. "Oh, shit! Food's getting cold."

"Right." They went back to eating, Alfred looking up from his food at Matthew a few times. "What is it?" Matthew finally asked.

Alfred just shrugged. "You decided to make food just so you'd have an excuse for us to talk, didn't you?"

Matthew smiled. "I thought it was subtle."

"At first, yeah. But I guess I've got you all figured out."

"I guess so."

"Hey, whatever happened to the Albanian guy?"

"Estonian. And he's getting transferred to Illinois for work in a couple weeks."

"Oh… that sucks."

"Yeah."

"And you actually liked him."

"Yeah."

"Sorry, Matt. Buy hey, now no one's gonna interfere with our bro nights!" He grinned, and Matthew could tell he really meant it that time. "Tonight, we should totally get takeout and drink beer and play games."

"Sounds good to me." Matthew finished off his French toast and licked the maple syrup off his fork. "Do we want wings tonight?"

"Yeah. Or ribs. Messy manly food! None of that girly stuff."

"I'm still planning to make myself a salad."

"Fine, have your rabbit food." Alfred popped his last bite of French toast into his mouth and stood up, putting his plate in the dishwasher. "I'll just eat some baby carrots or something."

"Now who's having rabbit food?"

"Aw, shut up. You know what I meant. Now hurry up and finish your maple syrup, there's this awesome new game I might wanna buy, and you should check it out!"

"Sure." Matthew dragged his fork through the maple syrup left on his plate, and Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Just pick the damn thing up and lick it off. It'd go way faster."

"Fine, fine. But if I get it in my hair, I'm blaming you." Matthew rolled his eyes.

In the end, he didn't get maple syrup in his hair, and he was glad he'd managed to clear things up with Alfred. It was a good thing Al wanted to get over Arthur instead of pining after him forever. Not only was it a good sign that maybe Arthur was right after all, but it also reassured Matthew that Alfred wasn't going to get super depressed or anything.

And once they moved into their new place, that'd help remove Alfred from any more memories of Arthur that he obviously didn't want to think about. Sure, it was kind of a hassle to move and all of that, but it was for Al's sake. And that made it okay.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! As always, let me know if you see any grammar/spelling mistakes. I hope I'll be updating faster next time… but that really depends on how busy I get. Fingers crossed._


	9. Chapter 8

_Finally, an update! I know, I know, it took too long. But I'm hoping this chapter is worth the wait. And now that summer is here, I should be able to get a lot more writing done. Yay!_

* * *

Winter came early that year, only a couple weeks after they had finished moving into the apartment. Matthew was unpacking the last of their kitchen stuff from boxes when he looked out the window and noticed it was snowing. A couple minutes later, he heard Alfred yell excitedly, "Snow! Matt, it's snowing!" He peeked out of his room, grinning. "First snow of the season, too! Sucks that it's only gonna be about half an inch."

"You're hoping we'll get snowed in, aren't you?"

"You betcha. C'mon, last year we barely got any, so I want _loads_ of snow this year." Alfred carried an empty box out of his room and set it on the floor near the kitchen. "So, how long do ya think it'll be before it gets icy as hell out there?"

Matthew shrugged, putting away a couple glasses. "Give it at least a few weeks. It's still only November, you know."

"Aw…"

"Looking for excuses not to go to work already?"

"Maybe." Alfred came into the kitchen, gathering up the empty boxes there. "Hey, are you done unpacking in here?"

"Yep, finally."

"Coolio. You know, I still have no clue where I'm gonna put our photo albums."

"Our?"

"Well, you're in almost all of the pictures. Seriously, Mom even has a picture of us with matching chicken pox in there."

"You're kidding."

"Nope! I can prove it. We're reading a book on the couch, I've got a thermometer sticking out of my mouth, and you're in your polar bear pajamas."

Matthew smiled. "I was sad when I outgrew those. They were really comfy." He picked an orange up off the counter, frowned, and put it in the fridge. "Are you doing anything tonight?"

"Nah. You?"

"I'm going out for drinks with Francis. He needs to complain about the guys who are suing us. Gilbert's a bad listener, Antonio doesn't understand legal terms and all of that, so I'm pretty much the only one he can talk to about it."

"So it's a date?"

"No. It's drinks between two friends."

"…friends who also-"

"Oh, come on. Are you _ever_ going to let that go?"

"Nope." Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Dude, after I frickin' walked in on that…"

"I will be coming home _alone_ tonight, Al."

"Fine, go ahead, cockblock yourself. Not my problem."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just don't pretend you're totally innocent, either."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I had to put a pillow over my head to sleep at your place sometimes. I started keeping _earplugs_ in the bedside table, Al. I don't care if you're having sex or not, but you and Arthur could've kept the noise level down a little."

"Hey, that was him, not me." Alfred huffed. "And how come you never told me?"

"Because I knew you'd get all defensive."

"I am _not_ being defensive!" Matthew raised his eyebrows pointedly, and Alfred sighed. "Okay, fine. Maybe I am. But seriously, how was I supposed to know?"

"I think the time I banged on the wall and told you two to shut up was good enough."

"I don't remember that."

"I do." Matthew's phone buzzed and he checked it quickly. "Okay, I'm gonna go get Francis now. I won't be home too late, but if you hear someone in the apartment late-ish, don't burst out of your room with a baseball bat."

"What _were_ you doing in the kitchen last week, anyways?"

"I left the oven on and remembered when I was trying to get to sleep. So I went to turn it off, and bumped into a chair…"

"…and I got my bat 'cuz I thought you were a serial killer or something."

"Yeah. Don't do that tonight."

"Gotcha. Well, have fun."

"You too. Don't spend _all_ night on the Xbox, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah."

When Matthew picked Francis up at his place, the first thing the Frenchman asked was, "So, how is Alfred doing?"

"Pretty good, I guess. He's stopped pretending to be happy all the time, and I can tell he's getting back to normal."

"That's good. And how are you?"

"I'm fine. Sure, Al kind of doesn't have a sense of privacy sometimes, but…"

"How so?"

"He doesn't knock before opening doors. Ever."

"Ah."

"Yeah. Anyways, how are you?"

Francis rolled his eyes and sighed, slouching. "Irritated and stressed."

"The case isn't going too well?"

"No, it's going fine, it's just the people I have to deal with…" he shook his head. "The other lawyer likes to pretend he's smarter than he is, so he uses all this legal jargon that makes no sense in the context he's using it in. It's really quite off-pissing."

"Off-pissing?"

"That's the term, no?"

Matthew shook his head. "Nope. You just say 'it's pissing me off,' there's no adjective form."

"Well, that's stupid."

"If you say so. You've been in this country how many years now…?"

"Seven." Matthew smirked, and Francis rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break. Really, it's just these stupid slang terms I have trouble with, nothing else!"

"Okay, I'll give you that much. By the way, I'm only having one drink tonight. I need to drive home."

Francis shrugged. "Suit yourself."

When Matthew got back to the apartment, he let himself in very quietly, expecting Alfred to be in bed already. But when he kicked off his shoes and hung his coat up, he thought he heard the microwave running for some reason. So he peeked into the kitchen, and sure enough, Alfred was standing by the microwave in his pajamas. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Matthew asked "What are you doing?"

Alfred put a hand on his chest. "Jesus christ, you scared me. Stop being so quiet!"

"Sorry. I thought you'd be asleep by now."

Alfred sighed. "I was trying to. That's why I'm out here." The microwave beeped, so Alfred opened it and took out a microwave heat pack. "I'm heating this up."

"Did you pull a muscle or something?" Matthew put his keys down on the kitchen counter, pulling his wallet out of his pocket and setting it down as well.

"Nah." Alfred shook his head. "I got cold."

"Cold?"

"Well, yeah. I'm used to having someone sleeping next to me in the winter, and now it's too damn cold without anybody there." Alfred shrugged, holding the heat pack against his chest, and Matthew looked down at his feet.

It was at times like this that he wished he could just hold Alfred close and kiss everything better, but he couldn't. He wanted to do something more for Al, but he couldn't. So instead he asked, "Have you put an extra blanket on your bed?"

"Yeah."

"And you've been using the space heater, right?"

"Yep." Alfred looked down at his feet, mirroring Matthew's stance. "It's just not enough, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

Matthew shook his head. "Don't worry about it." He turned around, about to leave the kitchen when Alfred spoke up behind him.

"You know, you don't have to let me get in the way."

"In the way of what?"

"You and Francis or whatever."

Matthew turned back around, frowning. "It's not like that, Al. I know I've told you a hundred times, and I know you don't care, but… it really isn't."

"Whatever you say." Alfred walked past him. "But you don't have to lie to me, either."

"I'm _not_ lying, Al."

"Sure you aren't. Well, I'm going to bed."

"Fine." Matthew sighed. It always sucked whenever they'd stop mid-argument, but he had to admit it was pretty late and he didn't really want to get pissed off more than necessary. But still, he couldn't help it. Before he really knew what he was saying, he had muttered, "And maybe when you wake up, you'll be off your period."

Alfred turned back around, eyebrows raised. "Whoa, did you just say what I think you said?"

"Just being honest."

"When did you finally grow a pair, dude?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. This is just the first time you've actually been listening when I say something like that. I guess you were always just too busy paying attention to your perfect Arthur to notice anything." Sure, bringing up exes was a dick move, but Alfred was the _king_ of dick moves during arguments, so Matthew decided it was okay.

"At least I've been happily in love before," Alfred muttered, and Matthew sighed.

"You think I haven't? Don't get so full of yourself."

"Well, if you've had a guy you're happy with, how come I've never heard about it?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a chance with y—_him!_" Matthew barely caught himself there, and Alfred gave him a weird look that made him wonder if maybe Alfred had caught what he was actually about to say.

Apparently not, as Alfred just rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I've still told about any of the guys I've been checking out, and you don't tell me a thing. I mean yeah, you told me about that one Estonian dude, but that's it."

"I didn't think it was that important. Maybe if it was serious, but…"

"It's never been, huh?" Alfred murmured, and Matthew nodded.

"Yeah."

"Okay, fine." Alfred sighed. "Sorry for being a bitch."

"Same here."

Alfred looked down at the heat pack he was still carrying. "I gotta reheat this." He went and tossed it back in the microwave. When his hands were free, he hugged Matthew. "I'm still just getting over everything, and stuff's just been… well, I've been having weird thoughts and dreams and stuff lately, so…"

"I get it. I'm going to get ready for bed now."

"M'kay." Alfred rested his head in the crook of Matthew's neck for a moment, breathing in deeply and sighing. "I'll see you in the morning. Oh, wait. It's morning now. See you later, then."

"Good night. Or is it good morning?"

"I dunno. Love you."

"Love you too."

…

The next day, Matthew was sitting in his bedroom, his laptop resting on his legs as he scrolled down a webpage, reading carefully. Alfred knocked on the doorframe, and Matthew looked up. "Hi."

"Hey. Whatcha doing?"

"Reading a Wikipedia article about Margaret Atwood."

"Why?"

"Because I was curious. What's up?"

"Nothin', really. I just wanted to talk."

"Okay." Matthew put his computer off to the side, and Alfred sat down next to him on the bed.

He sighed. "I know I've been kind of horrible lately, and I'm sorry. I've been having mood swings a lot and stuff, so… yeah. I'm pissed off all the time, and when I'm not pissed off, there's this weird… I dunno." He shrugged. "Anyways, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Everyone has stuff like that happen sometimes."

"Yeah, I know. And I know we've been fighting a lot lately, mostly about… you know."

"Francis?"

"Yeah. You spend a lot of time with him."

"I spend way more time with you than I do with him. I hang out with Gil a lot, too."

"Yeah, but he's-"

"No buts. You don't get pissy when I hang out with Gil, you shouldn't when I hang out with Francis."

Alfred sighed. "Okay, fine. It's just hard sometimes."

"I know." Matthew ran a hand through his hair. "I haven't really been the easiest person to be around lately, either. I'm under a lot of stress at work right now, and it sucks."

"I know the feel. Don't get so stressed out that you get sick, 'kay?"

"I'll try. But no promises."

"Do you wanna just get takeout or something tonight?"

"Only if we can watch stupid superhero cartoons too."

"Sounds like a plan. I'll find the DVD's." Alfred stood up. "You want Spiderman, Batman, or Superman?"

"Spiderman."

Alfred smiled. "I figured. Why's he your favorite, anyways?"

"Because he was shy and awkward and stayed that way even with the superpowers."

"Cool. Now rest up, get rid of that stress. If you get sick, I'm gonna have to try to cook for myself all the time. That's not gonna work."

"Okay." Matthew picked his laptop back up. "By the way, my parents keep asking me if we're visiting them for Christmas. Are we?"

"Yeah. And remember, Mom's birthday's in January, so we'll have to take a weekend to see her."

"All right." Matthew stood up. "I'm going to go put those on the calendar so we don't forget."

"Awesome."

...

Unfortunately for Matthew, the stress did seem to get to him, and by Wednesday night he had lost his voice entirely and couldn't stop coughing. Alfred got home from work late that night, and he smiled and said cheerfully, "Hiya, Matt!"

Matthew could barely whisper, "Hi." He cleared his throat, coughing a bit and Alfred frowned.

"Are you sick?" Matthew nodded, and Alfred sighed. "Right, go to bed. No, wait. Go have a hot shower. I'm making you chicken noodle soup for dinner." Matthew got up off the couch, but Alfred pointed at him suddenly. "Hang on, I gotta take your temperature. Don't move!" He ran off to get the thermometer, and Matthew laughed weakly.

"You don't have to-"

"Shut up and save your voice, Mattie." Alfred held the thermometer out to him, and Matthew obediently put it under his tongue, still trying to speak.

"I'm not _that_ sick."

A couple minutes later, when the thermometer beeped and Alfred checked it, he raised his eyebrows. "Well, _this_ begs to differ, Mr. Fever. Hundred-point-five. Go have a lukewarm shower, I'm getting you the ibuprofen."

When Matthew had gotten himself into bed after his shower (he knew it was only room temperature, but it felt like _ice_), Alfred appeared with a glass of water and a couple pills. "Here. Four hours and I'll get you another dose. I'm heating up some soup for you right now, and then I want you to sleep, 'kay?"

Matthew took the medicine. "Sure thing. Why are you being so nice?"

"Because you're sick. And being sick sucks. Plus it's nice to be taken care of properly when you're sick."

Matthew swallowed the pills, drinking the entire glass of water while he was at it. "What, did Arthur do this for you when you were sick?"

"No, _you_ did."

Matthew blinked a couple times. "Really?" he coughed.

"Yeah. Arthur was outta town that one time I had the flu and you stayed over to make sure I'd be okay. Remember?"

"Vaguely." Matthew sighed, which came out sounding far raspier and hoarser than it should have. Alfred took the empty glass from him just as something in the kitchen started beeping.

"That's the timer for the tea. No sugar, right?"

"No sugar."

"Good. The soup should be done in a second too."

Alfred stayed to make sure Matthew drank all the tea and finished his soup, and Matthew was pretty sure Al would've followed him into the bathroom to pee if Matthew hadn't shut the door in his face. Really, he wasn't _that_ woozy. But when he got back to bed, he was out almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. A few hours later, Alfred woke him up by shaking his shoulder gently and pulling the blankets off of him. "Mattie. Wake up, time to take your temperature."

Matthew sat up a bit, feeling his teeth chattering. "It's cold."

Alfred frowned. "No, you just still have a fever. Come on, open up." Matthew did, letting Alfred slip the thermometer under his tongue. Alfred leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Matthew's, and it felt so cold but also strangely nice. "Damn, you're burning up." He brought a hand up, touching Matthew's cheek. "How ya feeling?"

"Cold and hot. It sucks."

"Yeah. I figured." The thermometer beeped, so Alfred checked it. "You're at a hundred and one point seven. Okay, more medicine. And give me your comforter, you don't need it tonight."

"But-"

"No buts, Mattie. I don't want you overheating on me."

"Okay."

Matthew curled up under his sheets that night, alternating between shivering uncontrollably and tossing the blanket off at different intervals. He didn't sleep well at all, and when he did actually doze off, the dreams he had were strange and unpleasant, so he lay awake and stared at the ceiling, drifting in and out of sleep. At one point, he thought Alfred came in to give him a glass of water, but then again, he also remembered Alfred leaning over the bed and kissing him, so who really knew what was real and what wasn't?

He knew for sure that Alfred woke him up the next morning and got him to call in sick. There was a half-empty glass of water on the bedside table, so maybe that much had happened after all. He spent the day sleeping on the couch and drinking water and tea, and before he knew it, Alfred was home with more soup. Crackers, too.

"Hey, bro. Feeling any better?"

Matthew hadn't used his voice all day, so he didn't know how it'd sound. "A bit, I think." Oh, that wasn't so bad. Well, he didn't think so, but Alfred still looked worried.

He tossed Matthew a small plastic bag. "I got some cough drops too, by the way. The kinds that actually taste okay, too."

"Hooray."

"Anyone call when I was out?"

"Nope. Just Gil to tell me to get better and stop being a pussy."

"Sounds like him."

"Yeah."

"What's your temperature at?"

"Last I checked, ninety-nine point three."

"Good. That's way down from last night." Alfred came over and felt Matthew's forehead with the back of his hand. Matthew just closed his eyes. "Still a little warm, but whatever. No one else has tried to come over and baby you yet?"

"No one wants to get sick."

"True. Hooray for not spreading germs, I guess."

"But you-"

"I _live_ here, Mattie. Not like I can avoid getting your germs even if I try."

"Oh. Right."

Alfred sat down on the couch. "Man, I'm tired."

"Long day?" Matthew pulled the blanket he had draped on his lap up a little higher.

"Yeah. But c'mon, let's get you some food. Then you oughta go to bed early again."

"It's not even six-thirty."

"I don't care. You're sick."

"Not _that _sick."

"Whatever." Alfred got up again. "I got you tomato soup tonight. You want me to make you a sandwich or something, too?"

"Sure. Sounds good." Matthew leaned back into the couch again, closing his eyes. Alfred was really good at taking care of sick people. Maybe a little _too_ good, even.

After his dinner and yet another glass of water, Matthew curled up on the couch to watch the evening news. Alfred sat down beside him, rubbing his eyes and sighing. Matthew wasn't sure which one of them was more wiped out, but he knew for sure they were both tired enough to fall asleep on the couch. Matthew woke up first to realise the world was sideways. Never mind, he had just passed out on Alfred's shoulder. He was about to lift his head up when he noticed he couldn't. Apparently, Alfred had fallen asleep and was using Matthew's head as his pillow, one arm slung lazily around Matt's shoulders.

Matthew felt Alfred's breath on his hair slightly and decided not to move out of fear for waking him up. He didn't have to, as it turned out, since Alfred woke up on his own a couple minutes later and lifted his head up. "What time is it?" He yawned and looked over his shoulder. "Nine. Bedtime for you, Mattie." He stood up and went to help Matthew up, making him push Alfred's hand away.

"I can stand up just fine, Al." He took a couple steps, just long enough for all the blood to rush from his head, and he stumbled a bit.

Immediately, Alfred caught him. "See? I knew you needed help."

"Fine…" Matthew leaned on Alfred for a second, regaining his balance. "I'm okay now."

Alfred either didn't hear him or chose to ignore him, instead keeping an arm firmly around Matthew's waist. "C'mon, babe. You need to get to bed."

"I know, I know." In his tired, slightly feverish state, Matthew was willing to do pretty much anything that would give him a chance to sit down again.

Matthew slept much more soundly that night, and when he woke up the next morning, he felt much better. Thanks to Alfred's care, his fever seemed to have broken during the night. Sure, his voice was still a little raspy and he was tired, but Matthew felt well enough to go to work. So he took a shower and was rooting through the closet for a certain pair of pants he couldn't find, towel wrapped firmly around his hips, when he heard Alfred moving about in the apartment. "Al," he called out hoarsely, "Where are the navy pants?"

"Navy?"

"Yep."

"Uh… in the wash, I think. Here, lemme check." Alfred popped into the closet, checking all the hangers quickly. "Yeah, they're not here. Well, there's the grayish-blue ones… those okay?"

"Sure."

Alfred passed them to Matthew with a smile. "Here you go…?" Matthew wasn't entirely sure why Alfred's eyebrows retreated into his hairline as he said that, but when Alfred left the closet, he thought he had a good idea, mostly since Alfred muttered, "Bro, do you even _eat_ when you're at work?"

"Of course I do."

"Not enough, then. Well, I gotta get goin' see ya tonight." Alfred looked over his shoulder and waved, eyebrows still far higher than normal.

…

Not long after that, winter really hit, the ice on the sidewalk outside a perilous and also fun obstacle that resulted in a few grocery shopping trips turned ice-skating race between Matthew and Alfred. Well, really more like ice-_sliding_, but it was fun anyways. On the way back, at one point, Matthew dropped a bag over groceries as he tried not to fall over (luckily, it was just a bottle of juice, so no harm done), and Alfred just stood there and laughed at him. Of course, then he slipped and ran right into a pole, so it was Matthew's turn to laugh.

With this winter weather, though, they ended up spending more time than usual cooped up in the apartment, and Matthew noticed something. He kept catching Alfred staring off into space, like he was in deep thought about something. While that wasn't entirely normal for Alfred, Matthew decided to leave him to it. He figured Alfred was possibly still getting over Arthur, and it was probably not a good idea to try to talk to him about it.

Surprisingly enough, along with Alfred's occasional pensiveness, he seemed to acquire some sense of privacy, actually knocking before opening the door to Matthew's bedroom. Since all the doors in the apartment apart from the front door and the bathroom lacked locks (poor design, really), Matthew had been hesitant about even just getting changed in his bedroom, because Alfred would burst in to "borrow" a pair of socks or to ask Matthew some random question.

Now though, he felt less shy about that, and the third morning he got dressed without any incident, he figured it was safe. Of course, that was just a false sense of security… he was staying up a little later than usual that night, trying to read a magazine article, and the fact that he hadn't gotten laid or _anything_ since that time Al walked in on him with Francis was really starting to get to him. Of course, it hadn't been much help that before he went to bed that night, Alfred had given Matthew an extra-long hug, and the slight traces of cologne left on Al's skin made Matthew want to bury his head in Alfred's neck and just breathe in deeply and kiss him.

But he resisted and went to bed and read a magazine, which was how he found himself getting lost and re-reading the same sentence over and over because he was too busy thinking about what it'd be like to throw Al down on the bed. Or have Al throw him down on the bed. Either way, it turned him on just to think about it. Matthew tossed the magazine aside, and after making sure his door was firmly shut and that Alfred had stopped walking around the apartment, he tentatively slipped a hand down his pants and under the waistband of his underwear.

And did it ever feel nice to finally feel something there, even if it was just his own hand. Matthew closed his eyes, biting his lip slightly as he pumped his erection, letting his mind travel back to what had gotten him in this state in the first place. Sure, he always felt a little guilty when he thought about Al like that, but it was never enough to make him stop. Just as he was starting to get into it, he heard footsteps right by his room and Alfred threw the door open, making Matthew jump and pull the covers over himself.

"Dude! I just remembered tomorrow's Mom's birthday! I didn't get her anything!"

Matthew nearly could've screamed in frustration or at least told Alfred to leave the room, but instead he just willed the blush in his cheeks to fade and sighed. "I already got her a card, don't worry. And just call her tomorrow, tell her we'll come to visit this weekend. Friday after work we can go pick out a present from both of us or something."

"Mattie, you're a genius." Alfred sighed in relief. "Phew. I dunno what I'd do without you." he paused and looked at Matthew for a second, his eyebrows furrowed. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yes, why?" Matthew was feeling more and more uncomfortable by the second.

"You look… I dunno." Alfred looking at him like that made Matthew very aware of the fact that he was still pitching a tent.

"I'm fine," he said, slightly strained. "Peachy perfect. Just tired."

"Oh. Right. Well, g'night."

"See you in the morning."

As soon as Alfred left, closing the door behind him, Matthew threw the covers off and picked up where he left off. It was almost like Al _tried_ to have the most inopportune timing… seriously.

…

The next day, when Alfred got home from work, he called his mom almost right away. Matthew had just been lounging on the couch at the time, since he had already gotten dinner on, stretched out as he read the newspaper. Alfred walked past, talking to his mom as he hung his winter jacket up in the closet by the door.

"Yeah, it's nice. I mean, it's pretty different from my old office, since I have peace and quiet and all, but…" he trailed off, staring off into space a bit. Matthew followed Alfred's line of sight, noticing Alfred was looking at his legs, where he had one hand resting on his upper thigh. Matthew crossed one leg over the other, and Alfred snapped back to attention. "Anyways, I like it. I can actually focus now, so my boss has stopped nagging me."

Matthew wasn't really paying attention to the conversation. He had already heard about Alfred's new office, and he was too busy thinking anyways. Al hadn't actually been ogling him, right? He just zoned out for a second. That happened to everyone.

Alfred suddenly tossed the phone at Matthew. "Here, talk to Mom. Arrange our weekend plans and stuff."

Matthew rolled his eyes before picking up the phone and speaking into the receiver. "Hi, and happy birthday!"

"Thanks, Matt. Though I'm really at the age where I don't want to think about being another year older… how're you?"

"Not bad, I guess."

"You're all better? No more being sick?"

"Nope. Al's a pretty good nurse, believe it or not."

Mrs. Jones laughed. "Well, I babied you two enough as kids when you got sick, he'd better know what he's doing. So, you're coming down here on Saturday?"

"Yep. I'll try to get us there around noon, that is if Al doesn't hold us up."

"Hey!" Alfred yelled from his bedroom. "I heard that!"

Mrs. Jones didn't seem to hear Alfred. "He does take forever to get ready sometimes… but it'll be nice to have the whole family together. So, is Al bringing Arthur?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows. Had Alfred not told her? He thought Mrs. Jones had asked about Arthur when they visited at Christmas, and Alfred had told her then. "No, he's not. They broke up a few months ago, remember?"

"Oh, that's right! I keep forgetting. He used to talk about him nonstop, didn't he? Always 'Arthur this' and 'Arthur that.' Now I swear he won't shut up about you, but that's pretty normal."

"Well, we are roommates again. We moved into the new place in November."

"Oh, that's right! I forgot. Wow. My memory's really going… oh well."

Matthew laughed softly. "Don't go getting early Alzheimer's on us, now."

"Don't worry! Oh, and when you come over, you boys are going to be in charge of making my cake."

Matthew made a face. "Come on, really?"

"Yep."

"Fine… just don't expect it to be fancy."

…

All in all, the weekend didn't pass too horribly. Alfred's mom liked her gifts, and the cake turned out all right, despite Alfred managing to get half an eggshell blended into it somehow, never to be seen again. And both of them nearly forgetting the butter. And Matthew failing at making frosting and getting the entire kitchen counter covered in cocoa powder. Cleaning that up was almost worth the horrified look on Mrs. Jones' face and her cry of "What did you do to my kitchen?"

But it was certainly nice to get back to the apartment, where Alfred flopped on the couch and professed that they were ordering pizza for dinner. Matthew agreed with him, feeling a little lazier than usual, and shoved Alfred over on the couch before sitting down. Alfred lifted his head up a bit, asking, "Hey, Matt?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

Alfred opened his mouth, closed it again, and shook his head. "Never mind."

"Okay." Now _that_ was weird.

It happened again, a couple days later. Matthew was drinking a cup of coffee at the kitchen table in the morning when Alfred came into the room, started to say something, then stopped himself and left the room. Matthew, while he was used to Alfred being strange, wasn't quite used to that. But he decided to ignore it, just like he ignored the looks Alfred would give him sometimes. That was just wishful thinking on his part, nothing more.

So, one Friday afternoon, he didn't feel bad about getting changed as soon as he got home from work and suiting back up to go out.

Alfred had been using his laptop in the living room, and looked up from it. "Where're you going?"

"Out with the guys. We finally won the patent case, thanks to Francis, so it's a bit of a celebration."

"Oh, okay." Alfred shrugged, a strange look in his eyes. "And I'm gonna guess you'll be staying the night at Francis' place, right?"

"If we're out that late, then maybe. I might stay at Toni's, actually. It's closer and his street's pretty quiet most of the time. Why?"

"Nothing." Alfred got up off the couch to hug Matthew, burying his face into Matthew's neck and breathing in deep. "Have fun," he murmured against Matthew's skin, almost like he wanted to kiss him there but didn't dare.

"Yeah. See you."

Matthew left the apartment, wondering what the _hell_ that was. Over dinner, he apparently spaced out when Gilbert was trying to talk to him, and eventually the German just jabbed him with a fork. "Hey, earth to Matthew!"

"Ow!" Matthew rubbed the back of his hand where Gilbert had stabbed him. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

Toni just smiled and asked, "About Alfred?"

"Yeah, about Al." Matthew left it at that and raised his eyebrows at Gilbert. "You were saying…?"

In truth, he had been thinking about Alfred. Maybe those looks Al had been giving him weren't just his imagination after all. But then why was he being so strange? Matthew had never seen him act like that before.

He got home earlier than expected that night, since all of them were pretty tired. When he closed the door behind him, he could hear Alfred talking to someone.

"Well, that's not all it is. I mean, yeah, it wasn't all that long ago, and I dunno what to think about how fast everything's changed, but… seriously, man. I don't know what to say or do about it." Alfred paused. "Hang tight a sec, I think I heard something." Alfred peeked out of his bedroom, holding his phone up to his ear. "Just Matt coming home. And before you ask, no. I haven't done a thing yet. That's why I called you!" he went back into his room after waving to Matthew quickly, closing the door so all Matthew heard was a muffled. "It's complicated, that's why! I don't wanna just blurt stuff out, cuz then I'll just fuck stuff up _again_. Like I always do."

Matthew shrugged, heading to his bedroom. He tossed his keys onto his bedside table before getting changed for bed. He ended up brushing his teeth at the same time as Alfred, who was off of his phone by then. "So," Matthew asked, "Who was that?"

"Kiku. There was something I needed to talk to him about."

"Okay."

They brushed their teeth in silence for a moment before pausing. Alfred took the toothbrush out of his mouth. "This one's yours, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Whoops."

They switched toothbrushes, rinsed them off, and continued brushing.

…

It was that Tuesday that things finally seemed to reach some kind of breaking point for whatever was bothering Alfred, and he went to bed early, grumbling something about being tired and meetings, when Matthew knew he just wanted to hide in his room for a little bit. But he didn't pry, didn't ask questions, and just left Alfred in peace.

The next day, Alfred was already home by the time Matthew got back from work. He sat at the kitchen table with a mug of hot cocoa, looking confused.

"Hey," Matthew said, taking off his coat and hanging it up. "How was your day?"

Alfred shrugged. "It was okay, I guess."

"All right." Matthew gave Alfred a quick hug, deciding to go change out of his work clothes. Before he reached the doorway of his bedroom, though, Alfred spun around in his chair.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Yes?"

"C'mere. I need to talk to you about something."

Matthew came back to the kitchen, leaning against the counter slightly. "What's up?"

Alfred stood up, clearing his throat and swallowing nervously. "So, uh… I've been feeling kind of different these past few months. I dunno if you've noticed, but… well, I know what it is and I kind of have to tell you, but you gotta promise me it's not gonna change anything about us, okay?"

"Okay. I'm listening."

Alfred looked at the floor, mumbling, "I think I…" he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking back up, staring right into Matthew's eyes. "I think I'm in love with you, Mattie."

"I've always been in love with you," Matthew replied, not even missing a beat. Alfred's jaw dropped slightly, his eyes widening, and Matthew realised his suspicions about Alfred never noticing had been correct.

"How long…?"

"Since I first figured it out? Probably about twelve years now."

"Oh." Alfred bit his lip, obviously thinking. Well, it probably wasn't easy to wrap your head around your best friend being in love with you since you were both kids.

Speaking of which, it suddenly hit Matthew that Alfred, _Alfred, _was actually in love with him. They just stood there for a minute; both of them too busy thinking to bother saying anything, until Alfred finally stepped forward a little.

"So, what're we gonna do now?"

"Whatever you want to, Al." Matthew was still hung up on the fact that they were finally having this conversation, just on a totally normal Wednesday evening.

Alfred stepped a little closer, almost shyly, before asking, "Can I kiss you?"

Matthew had to smile. It was just like that night in the basement all over again, only they were both older and wiser. Wise enough to figure this out. "Of course you can."

And though he was calm on the inside, his heart was pounding and it felt like his feet were cemented to the floor. It was a good thing Alfred didn't seem to feel the same, since he finally closed the gap between them, leaning in close, and somehow Matthew was able to reach up and cup Alfred's cheek, and then he felt some kind of electric shock go through him when their lips brushed. And either Alfred had gotten to be a _really_ good kisser since they were fourteen, or it felt so good because it was finally Alfred he was kissing.

Alfred pulled back to breathe for a second, looking Matthew in the eyes. "Oh man," he murmured, "I'm d_efinitely_ in love with you."

He kissed Matthew again, pressing right up against him, his hands gripping Matthew's shoulders. Matthew tangled a hand into Al's hair, tilting his head just slightly to deepen the kiss, and god, he could taste the hot chocolate Alfred had been drinking earlier. Alfred moaned softly, his hands sliding down to rest on Matthew's hips, squeezing lightly as he coaxed Matthew's tongue to tangle with his.

It was then that Matthew heard something buzzing, and noticed Alfred's pocket was vibrating. Alfred broke the kiss with a displeased sigh, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "It's Mom. Guess I gotta talk to her." He didn't move away from Matthew, though, keeping their chests pressed together as he lifted his phone up to his ear. "Hello? Yeah, I'm a little busy." Alfred shot Matthew a quick glance, blushing a little. "Nah, they actually keep the streets pretty clear here, unlike the old place."

Alfred talked to his mother for a little while, obviously growing impatient with her idle chatter. "Is there something you called for, Mom? I mean, I'm kinda in the middle of…"

She must have said something odd, because Alfred frowned. "No, of course not. We broke up _months_ ago, Mom. Remember? That's why I got the new place, and why he didn't come when Matt and I visited for the holidays and your birthday."

Matthew realised she was asking about Arthur, and he felt a slight wave of protectiveness go through him suddenly. So he rested a hand on Alfred's lower back, pulling him a little closer still.

Alfred smiled at him quickly before continuing to talk to his mother. "Mattie's here too. I know I told you all of this…" he rolled his eyes. "And really, I'm over Arthur, okay? There's someone else now. Yeah, I've really fallen for him." He paused as his mother said something, and then smiled. "Oh, he knows, believe me." Alfred took Matthew's hand and squeezed it lightly. "Yeah. I'll talk to you later, Mom. Love you too."

He hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket. Matthew sighed quietly, knowing that moment had been broken. But still, Alfred leaned on him, holding him close.

"Al," Matthew began, "I-"

"Shh. I'm thinking." Alfred pressed a finger against Matthew's lips, so Matthew closed his mouth and let Alfred just hold him. "You know," Alfred mumbled, "I never had any clue that you… you know." He kissed Matthew's shoulder.

Matthew shook his head. "I tried to hide it, because I knew you didn't…"

"I still wish you would've said something. Maybe this wouldn't have taken so long."

"Sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize." Alfred leaned his forehead against Matthew's. "It's not your fault I'm a doofus."

"I know. I just thought you'd never… I thought I'd just mess everything up, and…"

"Yeah. But hey, I guess it's okay. I mean, I've finally noticed how _right_ this feels."

"What do you mean?"

"Holding you." Alfred pulled Matthew a little closer, smiling. Matthew felt his cheeks heat up, his heart beating in his chest like it might explode. For once, it seemed like things were finally going his way.

"I love you," he whispered, and Alfred blushed.

"I love you too." He tilted his head. "You've really been meaning it all these years, haven't you?"

"Yeah." Matthew tried to look at the floor, but Alfred just kissed him again, and it felt so perfect that he couldn't do anything except lean into it more.

When Alfred pulled away, both of them breathless, he grinned like he had some brilliant plan. "Well then, I guess I'll have to make up for all those times."

* * *

_This really shouldn't have taken so long, I know. But I had to go on a mini-hiatus while dealing with stress and schoolwork and friends' issues (being people's big sister figure can be tough sometimes) as well as some problems of my own. Now that school's out for the year, and I've graduated high school at last, I can focus more on my writing this summer. So, expect the next update to be much faster than this one!_


	10. Chapter 9

_What's this? A fast update? Well, I just so happened to be a little productive these past couple weeks. Thank caffeine for that! …and hours spent in the car due to road trips. Seriously, hours and hours._

* * *

Things were pretty different after that. Matthew thought it felt both a little strange and nice at the same time, how he was allowed to kiss Alfred hello and goodbye or just whenever he felt like it, but he decided he loved it. Both of them had been pretty affectionate as kids, and that seemed to carry over into this facet of their relationship as well, neither of them able to go too long without hugging or holding hands. Never in public, though. Alfred hated P.D.A. from other couples, and he had always been the person to yell "Get a room!" whenever people were being mushy or giving each other goo-goo eyes. Matthew personally just didn't want people paying extra attention to them. It was bad enough that when he and Alfred weren't dating, people would look at them suspiciously, and Matthew wanted to avoid any staring. But when they were at home, Matthew was pretty sure Alfred would've sat in his lap at the dinner table if Matthew let him.

Still, for all the affection they shared, they never took it further than just kissing. That might have been because they didn't want to rush things, didn't know how to ask for it, or both. For Matthew, it was definitely both of those. He honestly didn't know what to expect from Al, and decided that it didn't matter how long it took them to get anywhere. He'd been waiting for years, so what was a little longer?

He was thinking about that one bitterly cold night, when not even the two extra blankets on his bed and the fuzzy socks he was wearing were enough to keep him warm. He lay there, wide awake and shivering, wondering if it'd be acceptable for him to go crawl in bed with Al, simply for the sake of keeping warm. He'd never get to sleep otherwise.

"Hey, Mattie?"

Matthew rolled over, turned on his lamp, and saw Alfred in the doorway to his bedroom, dressed in his pajamas, pillow clutched against his chest. Well, apparently they had both been sharing a similar train of thought.

"Yes, Al?" Matthew sat up a little, trying to keep under the covers as much as possible.

Alfred shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. "So… it's really cold."

"Tell me about it."

"Yeah. And I was thinking… maybe… can we like, share the bed? For warmth, I mean."

Matthew nodded. "Just don't let any cold air in."

"I'll try not to." Alfred put his glasses on the bedside table and ducked under the blankets quickly, wiggling around to get comfortable.

Matthew switched his lamp back off and rolled over to find himself nose-to-nose with Alfred. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," Alfred replied. He wriggled a little more, one of his feet brushing Matthew's leg and making him jump.

"Holy hell, your feet are like _ice!_ Don't you wear socks to bed?"

Alfred laughed softly. "Nope. I always lose them in the covers or my feet get too hot."

"You can kick them off and drop them on the floor, you know."

"Too much effort." Alfred pressed his foot against Matthew again, and Matthew shivered, glaring at him.

"Stop stealing what body heat I have left, Al."

"But you're warm!"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Matthew figured Alfred would just roll his eyes and ignore him. He didn't expect Alfred to grin and waggle his eyebrows suggestively. "Make me."

Well, since he suggested it… "Okay." Matthew put a hand on the back of Alfred's head and pulled him into a kiss.

Alfred relaxed against Matthew immediately, tilting his head to one side a little and nipping Matthew's lower lip lightly, something he'd always been a sucker for. And boy, it sure didn't take long for Al to figure that out. Alfred's hands found their way under Matthew's shirt, Matthew's leg found itself nudging Alfred's legs apart slightly, and they pulled each other a little closer. Matthew gently coaxed Alfred's tongue into his mouth, almost subconsciously rutting their hips together until Alfred pulled away with a quiet gasp.

He kissed Matthew again quickly, blushing up to his ears and murmuring against his lips, "Good night, I love you," before rolling over onto his other side and curling up into a ball.

Matthew was about to roll over and face the other way as well when he remembered he didn't have to anymore. They weren't just best friends, he was allowed to hold Al close. So he snuggled up against Alfred, kissing the back of his neck. "I love you too."

Alfred seemed to relax a little as Matthew wrapped an arm around him, and as Matthew closed his eyes, he felt Alfred's hand rest on his arm. It was both one of the best and warmest sleeps Matthew had in a long time.

Every night after that, Alfred would get in bed with him for the sake of warmth, but Matthew thought it was more than just that. Either way, each night Alfred would encourage Matthew to kiss him or would initiate it himself. But all he would do was make out with Matthew until they were both breathless, then blush furiously and turn away. Why, Matthew wasn't exactly sure, but it was sort of adorable. He didn't say as much, since he didn't feel like getting a pillow to the face (courtesy of Alfred's pride), but he certainly thought it.

…

He didn't tell any of the guys about him and Alfred, simply because it didn't really occur to him to say anything about it. But one day, when Matthew had his carpool companions (Gilbert still insisted on calling them that, unfortunately) over to watch a hockey game (Francis wanted to cheer for the team from Quebec, Toni was in one of his never-ending fights with Lovino, and Gil liked watching the fights), he found out they definitely wanted to know.

Alfred discovered with horror that they were out of beer, and made a show out of having to go to the store and get more. He grabbed his wallet with a sigh. "Fine, I'll go buy more. But seriously, how did this happen?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Oh, what a tragedy. No beer!"

"C'mon, Matt. You'll start complaining soon enough, especially when Toronto starts losing."

"_When?_"

"Yeah, when. Face it, Montreal's pretty kickass this season." Before Matthew could get enraged at the insult to his favourite hockey team, Alfred leaned over and kissed him quickly, cupping Matthew's cheek with his free hand. "I'll be right back, babe. Hang tight." He ran out the door, and Matthew turned back to see his three friends staring at him. Apart from the television, it was completely silent in the room.

Then Gilbert tackled Matthew, putting him in a headlock and punching him in the stomach. "Asshole! When did _that_ start?"

"What do you-?"

"You and Alfred, _Dummkopf!_"

"Yeah," Toni added, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Matthew, we've been rooting for you for months, and this is how you repay us?" Francis put a hand on his chest. "You wound me greatly, _mon ami_."

Matthew grabbed a pillow off the couch and hit Gil in the head with it. "Let go and stop hitting me if you want me to talk! Jeez." When Gilbert backed off, Matthew cleared his throat. "It's only been about a month, really."

"I had no idea," Toni said, shaking his head. "You two act the same as always."

"Except for the kissing, obviously." Francis raised his eyebrows. "So, how did it happen?"

"We just sort of… talked it out, I suppose. And then he asked if he could kiss me, and I said yes, and-"

"Whoa, whoa. Spare us the sordid details, Matt." Gilbert smirked. "Not that we aren't proud and all, but-"

"No, we haven't… you know." Matthew rolled his eyes at the shocked looks he received. "It's not like we're in any rush. I'm still mostly getting over the fact that Alfred actually loves me like that, and I think he's still not used to… well, us. Besides, the right moment hasn't happened yet."

"The right moment?" Gilbert looked incredulous.

"_Oui_, you fool! Some people actually care about the finesse of _l'amour_, instead of being barbarous and uncultured like you." Francis sighed. "Honestly, how you _ever_ get laid is beyond me."

Gilbert sat back on the couch, folding his arms behind his head. "Still, you've been after Al for like, _ever_. Just get naked or something, I'm sure that'll work."

Everyone just shook their heads at Gilbert, and Matthew shrugged. "It'll happen when it happens. Really, I'm not in any hurry."

"Speaking of sleeping together…" Matthew raised his eyebrows at Francis, who put his hands up defensively. "This isn't going where you think it is, I promise."

"Okay… go for it."

"Is there a reason Alfred was in _your_ room, laying on _your_ bed when I got here?"

Toni grinned at Matthew, who shook his head. "Because it's been cold. And we've been sharing the bed."

"That's it?" Gilbert asked. When Matthew nodded, he whistled. "_Gott_, Matt. You must have infinite patience or something."

Matthew shrugged. "I'm pretty used to it, actually. We've shared beds before, and even sleeping bags on camping trips. Though that did get kind of awkward around puberty…" he trailed off and shook his head.

Toni sighed. "I still just wonder how you two managed to _not_ be together for so long."

"I don't know either. I guess Al really just saw me like a brother." He shrugged. Granted, most brothers probably didn't barricade their bedroom doors so they could watch porn together or borrow it from each other without their parents knowing. And though Matthew would never admit it, about half the time when he and Alfred had watched porn together, he was actually watching Al. For the first time ever, Matthew vaguely wondered if Al had ever watched _him_.

He filed that thought away for a more appropriate time, just as Alfred came back with more beer. "The beer-hero has returned! And his mission was very successfully accomplished."

"Good. If you failed to buy beer, I'd be seriously concerned."

"Ha, ha." Alfred carried a couple beers over to the living room, sitting in-between Matthew and Gilbert on the couch and passing both of them a beer. "Here. And I _told_ you Toronto was going to start losing, see?"

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Alfred just shrugged and grinned. "Sorry for bein' right." He rested a hand on Matthew's leg, and Gilbert smirked suggestively.

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Al. And Gil, don't look at me like that."

"What happened while I was out? You're all super quiet suddenly."

"Matthew kindly informed us of the changes in your relationship," Francis supplied smoothly with a subtle toss of his hair. "Our congratulations."

"Yep! I mean, we knew for _years_ that Matt was in love with you, and we were all sort of giving up hope for you two, but-"

"Can it, Toni. You're babbling." Gilbert waved his beer at Matthew and Alfred. "But really, guys. Congrats."

Alfred had turned an interesting shade of pink. "Thanks."

When the game was over and the guys left, the two of them sat on the couch on their respective computers, Alfred playing games while Matthew checked his email.

"Hey, Matt?"

"Yes?" Matthew looked up from his computer

"Am I seriously the last person to know about… you know?"

"Well… pretty much. Everyone else either guessed it or it came up in conversation."

"Did Arthur know?"

"He figured it out a couple months after you first introduced us."

Alfred sighed. "So I'm just an idiot."

"No, I'm too good at hiding things from you, and you're pretty bad at figuring me out."

"Okay, maybe. But still." Alfred pressed a quick kiss to Matthew's temple. "Over ten years. How'd you do it?"

"With difficulty."

"I guessed that much."

"I tried to stop. Several times. It didn't work, obviously."

"Good thing, too." Alfred draped an arm over the back of the couch, his fingertips lightly brushing Matthew's shoulder. He would do that sort of thing a lot, just little touches, like he was reassuring himself he was allowed to do that.

Matthew smiled. "You weren't nearly so subtle. I knew something was up."

"I know… but seriously, what was I supposed to do?" Matthew raised his eyebrows, so Alfred explained, "I went from thinking 'Hey, it's Matt!' when I saw you to 'How did I never notice how nice Matt's ass is?' in a few months. I was confused."

Matthew laughed quietly. "So I wasn't imagining it when I saw you ogling me."

"Nope. And when you were sick, I just wanted to cuddle you and kiss you and stuff to make it better, so…"

Matthew thought for a moment. "I didn't really notice it, to be honest. I was just really tired and felt like crap. But now that I think about it… you called me 'babe,' then."

Alfred shrugged, blushing. "It just kinda slipped out, and you didn't notice, so I thought it was okay."

"I wish I had noticed."

Alfred chuckled. "Well, we can't change what happened. And at least things are fine now."

Matthew nodded. "It took a long time, but…"

"Yeah. You know, this is the easiest relationship I've ever had. I know what you like to do, so there's no stupid second-guessing stuff, and I don't have to worry about if you like my friends, 'cuz we have a lot of the same friends. It's nice." Alfred smiled. "It's like you always imagine things are supposed to be."

Matthew could've laughed at how cliché that was, but he didn't. Alfred didn't say things like that unless he really meant it, after all. So he decided it was sweet.

…

When they went to bed that night, Matthew decided to be just a little more forward during their little make-out session, slipping his fingers into the waistband of Alfred's pajama pants. Instead of pulling away and blushing like Matthew expected he would, Alfred pulled Matthew closer, resting both hands on Matthew's ass and squeezing. Matthew felt his cheeks heat up with a blush, especially when Alfred murmured, "I've wanted to do that for _months_ now."

Not for the first time, Matthew felt himself getting hard. He didn't move, just kissed Alfred again, wondering if he noticed. His fingers were still down Alfred's pants, barely grazing his skin, and Matthew pulled Al's pants down just a tad. Alfred shifted just slightly, inadvertently moving his hips forward, and Matthew raised his eyebrows slightly. Alfred was hard too, he could feel it against his leg. They pulled apart to breathe just then, and Alfred's face was bright pink, Matthew could tell even in the dark of the room.

The way Alfred was looking at him, he wouldn't have been surprised if Al suddenly pinned him to the mattress, and he decided he would definitely be okay with that. But then Alfred's eyes flicked over to the alarm clock, the red digital numbers proudly proclaiming that it was exactly one-forty-three, Monday morning. Alfred sighed, looking back to Matthew. Right then, Matthew's hatred for Mondays clicked up a notch.

Alfred leaned in for one last kiss, a tender, sweet one. "Good night," he whispered.

"Love you," Matthew replied, and Alfred smiled.

"Love you too." Instead of rolling over onto his side like he usually did, Alfred snuggled up to Matthew, resting his head on Matthew's chest. "Make sure I actually get up tomorrow, I've got a nine o' clock meeting."

"Those should be illegal."

"Yeah."

Matthew sighed and ran his fingers through Alfred's hair, still willing himself to calm down. And while he was hoping to get laid (or at least _something_) in the near future, he didn't expect anything until at least Friday night. An action movie he actually wanted to see was premiering, and he knew Al was excited for it too, so he wondered about maybe making that an excuse for a date night. They hadn't gone on an actual date yet, though Matthew supposed them eating dinner together every night, instead of just eating whenever they got hungry, was close enough.

…

Matthew got home from work on Thursday and immediately changed into sweatpants and a hoodie, for warmth as well as comfort. He put his feet up on his bed, deciding to relax for a little, maybe have a short nap. He woke up when Alfred came into the room, apparently getting changed as well. Matthew rubbed his eyes. "Hey."

"Hi. Had a nice nap?"

"Yep. What time…?"

"Six-fifteen. Be glad you got out of the office when you did. Traffic was _hell_." Alfred took his belt off and dropped it on the floor, Matthew secretly watching and pretending he wasn't staring.

"I guess I was lucky, eh?"

"Yeah."

Matthew stretched, working out a kink in his neck, and noticed Alfred staring at where his sweatshirt rode up when he raised his arms over his head. "So, you know how there's that new Marvel movie coming out this weekend?"

"Yep. What 'bout it?" Alfred sat down on the bed.

"Do you want to go see it?"

"And grab pizza afterwards?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds great."

Matthew sat up a little. "What time do you get off work tomorrow?"

"I think I'll be done around five-thirty. I can probably get out a little earlier, though."

"So the seven o' clock showing would work for you?"

"Yeah. Should I call ahead and have them reserve us tickets?"

"Sure." Matthew fiddled with the zipper on his sweatshirt. "And I'll make sure our normal pizza place is open late enough."

"Awesome."

Matthew briefly wondered if Alfred noticed that he was moving slightly closer. "What should we have for dinner tonight, anyways?"

"Dunno." Alfred looked Matthew up and down, a blush rising in his cheeks. "Don't care," he nearly whispered.

"What was that?"

"I don't care what we eat."

"Ah." Matthew shrugged, going to stand up. "Well, I guess I'd better get started on some-" he was interrupted by Alfred pushing him back down on the bed and kissing him, slipping his hands up Matthew's sweatshirt a bit.

Matthew pulled Alfred down on top of him, hitching one leg over Al's hip. He tangled his hands in Alfred's hair, noticing how he shivered slightly at that. When they broke apart to breathe, he couldn't help but chuckle at their predicament. "Someone's being rather forward, eh?"

"I don't hear you complaining."

"I'm not. But…" Matthew paused and kissed Alfred's forehead. "You'd better not stop halfway."

"Wasn't planning on it." Alfred kissed Matthew again, unzipping his sweatshirt and raising his eyebrows when he saw Matthew wasn't wearing a shirt under it. Matthew responded by unbuttoning Alfred's shirt and running his hands down Al's chest. It was almost unfair, how Alfred managed to stay tan, even in the winter. Alfred shrugged off his shirt, dropping it on the floor, and Matthew tossed his sweatshirt across the room somewhere, pulling Alfred back down for another kiss, longer and deeper this time.

When Alfred pulled back, breathing heavily, he pressed against Matthew's groin slightly, making Matthew aware that he was far more turned on than he should've been from just a bit of making out. Alfred pushed his bangs out of his face, his eyelids lowered slightly. "Shit, Mattie… you're making me so hard."

Those words made Matthew's cock twitch in his pants, and he bit his lip, chancing a glance down. Yes, Alfred was definitely just as turned on as him. Matthew reached out, cupping the bulge in Alfred's pants and making his hips jerk forward slightly as he rubbed his hand over it. When he looked up and met Alfred's eyes, Al moaned, possibly the most beautiful sound Matthew had ever heard, and pulled Matthew up, kissing him.

Somehow they rolled over, and Matthew found himself straddling Alfred, rocking their groins together, both of them already flushed and panting. Matthew knew he had lube somewhere in his bedside table, but didn't feel like fumbling around for it just yet, so he slid down Alfred's body, unbuttoning Al's pants and pulling them off, taking his underwear with them. Oops. Apparently, neither of them quite expected that, as Alfred's hands automatically shot out to cover himself.

When Matthew looked up, eyebrows raised, Alfred blushed. "It's cold." He removed his hands, turning an even darker shade of red and making Matthew smirk.

Until he looked back down. Then he felt his own cheeks heat up with a blush. Well, Alfred had certainly changed since they were fifteen. That was to be expected, but that didn't make it any less surprising. It also didn't help Matthew's flushed cheeks when he noticed Alfred was completely hard. He cast a quick glance up to see Alfred watching him carefully, and he couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous he felt. "Why are we being so awkward about this?"

"I dunno, but I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Matthew shook his head. "I feel it too. But…" he wrapped a hand around Alfred's erection, squeezing just slightly. "I think we can get over it."

Alfred's eyelids fluttered for a second and he nodded. Matthew was still getting used to the fact that he was allowed to touch Alfred like this, that _he _was the one who did this to Al, that he could do pretty much whatever he liked and Alfred wouldn't complain. With that in mind, he scooted down a little further and took Alfred into his mouth.

Immediately, Alfred moaned. "Oh, _fuck_… Mattie, you don't hafta…"

Matthew pulled off as Alfred ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "I know," he murmured, "I want to." As he said that, he pumped Alfred's cock a few times before sliding back down, taking it as far into his throat as he could.

Alfred's tightened a fist in the bedsheets, and he moaned softly. Matthew's pants were getting uncomfortably tight, but he ignored that until Al started running his hand up and down Matthew's arm. His shoulders were a little sensitive at the best of times, but during sex, he could barely stop himself from moaning.

"Matt, c'mere…" Alfred loosened his hand from the bedsheets and rested it on Matthew's other shoulder. Matthew sat up, letting Alfred pull him close. "I don't wanna be the only one naked here."

Matthew slipped out of his sweatpants and, after a moment's hesitation, took off his boxers as well. Alfred looked him over, and Matthew suddenly felt a little nervous. Sure, most of the guys he had been with told him he was hot, but maybe Al didn't… maybe he couldn't… maybe this hadn't…

"Holy shit," Alfred murmured, "when did my little Mattie get really fucking sexy?"

And just like that, Matthew could relax again. Alfred pulled Matthew into his lap, kissing him and slowly rutting against him. And god, it had been far too long, and Alfred's hands were so warm as he ran them over Matthew's shoulders, his back, everywhere, and Matthew couldn't wait anymore. So he reached for his bedside table, opening one of the drawers. It took him a second of searching to find his lube, since it had been so long since he last needed it, but once he found it, he passed it to Alfred. "Do you want to…?"

"I'm good either way."

"Same."

"So…" Alfred coated a couple fingers in lube. "Do you want me to…?"

"Yeah," Matthew breathed.

Alfred reached around, pressing a finger against Matthew. "Ready?"

Matthew nodded and closed his eyes as Alfred's finger slipped inside. Since it had been so long, he could tell he was pretty tense, but he willed himself to relax and lean into Alfred's touch. He felt Alfred's erection throb against his leg and opened his eyes slightly. Alfred was watching him like he was the most important thing in the world.

It didn't take very long for Alfred to find Matthew's sweet spot, causing him to moan and roll his hips down. "Al," he gasped out, and Alfred smiled.

"Yeah, babe?"

"You can…"

"Another?"

"Yeah."

Alfred slid another finger inside, pressing right against Matthew's prostate again. He was so careful, so gentle, and Matthew was almost surprised. He wouldn't have thought Al to be a particularly gentle lover.

But when Alfred was guiding Matthew down onto him, slow and careful, his fingers rubbing soothing circles into Matthew's hipbones, Matthew decided he liked it. He settled himself on Al's cock, getting used to the feeling, and when he rocked his hips slightly, just testing to see if he was ready, he felt Alfred press right into his prostate, and couldn't hold back the groan that bubbled up in his throat.

Alfred looked a little worried at first, like he was concerned Matthew was in pain, but when they locked eyes, he relaxed. They leaned in at the same time, kissing as Matthew began to slowly lift himself up and down. Alfred's grip on Matthew's hips tightened as he moved, and he pulled away from the kiss to moan softly. Matthew just clutched at Alfred's shoulders, unable to do anything except squirm and cry out from the constant pressure on his sweet spot, the waves of pleasure rolling over him.

Al dropped his head, sucking and kissing at Matthew's neck, rolling his hips up with Matthew's movements, their pace getting faster and deeper, making Matthew bite his lip to hold the sounds back. He wasn't normally this loud and he knew it. It just felt different, knowing this was _Alfred_ he was holding, _Alfred_ he was kissing, _Alfred _who was inside of him.

And when he noticed Alfred's eyes on him, he could guess that Al was thinking something similar, and the thought made him shiver. He pulled Alfred's chest against his after a particularly wonderful, harsh thrust in exactly the right spot, and bit back a moan. Alfred kissed his jaw, still thrusting up into _that _spot. "Matt, lemme hear you," he murmured, his hands dropping lower to squeeze Matthew's ass.

So Matthew leaned his forehead on Alfred's shoulder, gasping for breath slightly. When Alfred's hand suddenly wrapped around his cock, he groaned. "Oh _god_, Al… you…" he trailed off, moaning quietly as Alfred began pumping his erection in time with his thrusts, bringing him dangerously close to the edge.

Alfred groaned, biting down on Matthew's shoulder, and Matthew shivered slightly. "H-hey, let me hear you too. Or it's not—_ahn_…" he was cut off with another moan as Alfred's grip tightened on his cock. Alfred pulled off of Matthew's shoulder and smirked.

"Or it's not what?"

"Not _fair_, dammit!" Matthew protested, but Alfred just kissed him again, making him close his eyes. It really wasn't right, how Alfred could get him to shut up with a good kiss.

Of course, it didn't help that they were still moving together, all sense of rhythm long gone, just mindless rutting, but it was still far too good. Matthew pulled away from the kiss when Alfred's hand sped up, and he had to clench his teeth and grip Alfred's arm to hold back, so close to the edge. "Al, please, I can't-"

"It's okay, babe." Alfred kissed Matthew's ear, whispering, "Come for me, Mattie."

That was all Matthew needed, and suddenly he was falling over that edge, letting everything go, clinging to Alfred and shaking as every muscle in his body tensed, until he felt the warmth splatter all over his and Alfred's chests, and then everything relaxed until he was leaning on Alfred, moaning softly.

He felt Alfred shiver slightly, and looked up to see his eyes half-lidded, his mouth hanging open slightly, and his cheeks flushed. He thrust up once more, his eyebrows scrunching together, and let out a long, low groan. Matthew felt the tell-tale rush of warmth inside of him, and rocked his hips slightly, milking Alfred of everything he had.

When Alfred relaxed again, he closed his eyes for a moment, panting. "Oh my god…" he opened his eyes again and pulled Matthew in for a kiss. "I love you."

"I love you too," Matthew murmured. He climbed off of Alfred and rolled off to the side, feeling Alfred slip out of him.

Alfred pushed Matthew's hair out of his eyes and kissed him on the cheek. "Sorry I came inside."

"Don't worry. I don't mind." Normally, Matthew _would _mind, and he insisted on condoms even when he was in a monogamous relationship, but with Alfred… it was okay. It didn't bug him.

"So," Alfred began, "when were you planning to tell me you were like… packing it down there?" Matthew raised his eyebrows, and Alfred rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I suppose if you'd ever brought it up. You didn't exactly tell me you were, either."

"Yeah, true. And for someone as quiet as you are a lot of the time, you're pretty loud in bed."

"And for someone as loud as you are, you're surprisingly _not._"

Alfred blushed. "For me, that was pretty loud. I mean, you're just… wow."

"Wow?"

"Really, really good."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah." Alfred kissed Matthew quickly, then looked down and grimaced. "I'm gonna go grab a couple towels and stuff. Hang tight."

When they were cleaned up and decided they actually needed to make dinner, Matthew rubbed his lower back and made a face. "If I'm sore tomorrow, I blame you."

"Want me to give you a butt massage?"

Matthew raised his eyebrows at Alfred, who was grinning. "A butt massage."

"Yep."

"Is that even a thing?"

"It is now. I'll take care of that after dinner, 'kay?" He winked at Matthew, who just rolled his eyes.

"Fine. It's worth a shot, eh?"

"That's the spirit!"

…

The next day, Matthew woke up late, courtesy of the snooze button on his alarm clock. He pretty much ran around the apartment, putting on clothes, not caring if they matched or not. "Coffee, coffee… dammit! Al, where's the coffee?"

"Cupboard. Middle shelf."

"Why isn't it where it belongs?"

"Because. I dunno. Calm your tits."

Matthew rolled his eyes and went back to the bedroom to kiss Alfred goodbye. "Fine, fine. I'm just almost missing the carpool, that's all."

"Mmph. Have fun."

Gilbert was driving again that day, so Matthew was in the backseat with Francis again. He sighed, taking a gulp of coffee. "Sorry I'm late! I should not be allowed to have a snooze button."

"Well, at least none of us have meetings today, so we won't be late for anything." Gilbert shrugged.

Matthew put his tie on and fiddled with his collar to make sure it wouldn't be sticking up strangely. He craned his neck to see his reflection in the rear-view mirror and make sure everything was okay. He heard a slight gasp from Francis, followed by the Frenchman putting a hand over his mouth to stifle laughter, so he turned his head back. "What is it?"

"Are you sure _that's_ not why you're late?"

"What do you mean?"

Francis got a hand mirror out of his briefcase and passed it to Matthew. "See for yourself."

Matthew turned his head to the side and saw it. Well, them. He had a couple large, dark love bites, thanks to Alfred. "Oh. Oops. And no, those aren't from this morning."

"What aren't?" Antonio turned around in the front seat, looked at Matthew's neck, raised his eyebrows, and started giggling.

"What happened?" Gilbert asked. "Why are you all freaking out back there?"

"Because Matthew has some… rather noticeable marks from last night's activities." Francis smirked, and Toni burst out laughing.

Matthew put his face in his hands. "I _knew_ I should've looked in the mirror this morning…" he unbuttoned his shirt slightly and peeked at his collarbone in the mirror Francis gave him. He blinked a couple times as he discovered several more. "How did I not_ feel_ that?"

"Okay, now I have to know." At the next red light, Gilbert turned around in his seat, and his eyes promptly bugged out of his head. "Whoa. What, did you get attacked by a bear?"

"No!"

"Apparently, Alfred's a bit of a biter."

"Francis!" Matthew threw the mirror back at him. "Shut up!"

"Ohh…" Gilbert smirked and turned back around. "The right moment finally happened, huh?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Matthew hid himself for the rest of the day, not wanting to see anyone he didn't absolutely have to see. He was too embarrassed to look anyone in the eyes, anyways. When he got home from work, Alfred was already there, on the couch with a newspaper and a can of pop. Alfred looked up when Matthew closed the door behind him, and he smiled. "Hey! How was your day?"

"Humiliating." Matthew took off his tie and kicked his shoes off.

"How so?"

"Everyone noticed _these_." He unbuttoned his collar and pointed to his neck.

"Oh." Alfred turned pink.

"Yeah, 'oh'. Gil wouldn't leave me alone about it all day."

"Sorry. But you should've said something! I know I got kind of carried away, but… I couldn't help it."

Matthew sighed and sat next to Alfred on the couch. "I don't really mind, but if you could remind me to wear a turtleneck or something…"

"Gotcha." Alfred sat up and kissed Matthew. "Hi, by the way." Alfred kissed Matthew on the cheek, and then on the neck.

"Hey," Matthew protested, "No more."

"Okay," Alfred murmured. "But what if it's where no one'll see?"

"Well, that's… that's okay."

"M'kay…" Alfred pulled Matthew close, unbuttoning his shirt a little further and kissing his shoulder. "Like here?"

"Yeah." Matthew didn't move. He just sat there, unsure of where to put his hands. He kind of wanted to grab Alfred's ass, but he resisted.

"What're you thinking about?"

"Nothing, really."

"I'm sure." Alfred grinned at Matthew. "Tell me."

What the hell, Matthew decided, and suddenly grabbed Alfred's ass, making him jump and then smirk.

"Oh… I see how it is, then."

"How what is?"

"Wait until we get back from the movie at least, Mattie."

Matthew looked at the clock. "Crap. Speaking of which, we should go now if we want good seats."

They stayed after the movie was over, through the credits, since apparently there was a bonus scene afterwards.

While all the names were scrolling up the screen, Alfred nudged Matthew. "I'm bored."

"You were the one who insisted we stay."

"I know. Make me not bored."

"How?"

"I dunno. Come up with something, or I'll amuse myself."

"And we both know that never ends well."

"Exactly."

Matthew sat there for a moment, pretending to think, before leaning over and biting Alfred's neck. Immediately, Alfred gasped and gripped the armrests of the chair he was in, letting out a quiet whine. "Matt…"

Matthew busied himself with sucking on Alfred's neck until he felt a moan bubble up in Al's throat. He smirked to himself and leaned back into his seat again. "Still bored?"

Alfred shook his head. "Not anymore." He looked over at Matthew and then back at the screen, not loosening his grip on the armrests.

"Are you hard?" Matthew whispered it, not wanting anyone to hear.

Alfred waited a second before mumbling, "A little."

"Wait until we get back from the movie at least, Al."

Alfred glared at Matthew. "I hate you right now."

"You won't when we get home." Matthew hadn't meant to say that, and as it popped out, a girl next to them looked their way and put a hand over her mouth, stifling giggles.

"Way to go, Matt," Alfred snickered. "You alerted a fangirl to our presence."

"Oh, let her imagine. I increased the amount of happiness in the world."

Alfred laughed. "Oh, I just had the _worst_ thought…"

"What?"

"You can increase the happiness in my world anytime."

Matthew laughed quietly. "Oh, that is so bad."

"I know. I've had worse. Ones you'd probably hit me for."

"Like what?"

Alfred waved his hand. "Hang on, bonus scene is starting! I'll tell you after."

While they were walking to their normal pizza place, Alfred nudged Matthew. "The worst I've ever had is Canada-related. So don't kill me."

"I'm listening."

"If all you've gotta do is fuck a Canuck, I guess I'm an honorary Mountie."

"You didn't."

"I did."

Matthew shoved Alfred. "That is _horrible_. You're defaming the Canadian police!"

Alfred laughed. "Come on, the name is just _asking _for it! You should call them… Maple cops or something."

Matthew shook his head. "No way."

"Yeah, that name sucks." Alfred slipped his hand in Matthew's back pocket. "I'll come up with something better."

That time, it felt natural. Matthew didn't have to freak out. And sure, maybe people were looking at them funny, but Matthew figured they could probably see the hickey he gave Alfred (revenge was sweet), so it didn't really matter. He didn't mention any of that to Alfred, not sure if he had even noticed the way he had acted all those months ago. Either way, it didn't matter anymore.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Fingers crossed that the next update will be this quick. As always, any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!_


	11. Chapter 10

_Now, while I had this chapter written a while ago, typing it up took me forever. But I got it done, so I'm happy!_

_I think there's only going to be one or two more chapters after this one, so we're pretty close to the end._

* * *

One bright, sunny Saturday morning in April, Matthew woke up to Alfred tossing a duffel bag on the bed and yelling, "Up and at 'em, sunshine! Time to go!"

Matthew groaned and put a pillow over his face. "Go _where?_"

"To visit the parental units, remember? And go camping."

Matthew sighed, lowering the pillow. That was right, he had taken a week off work to go visit his parents, and all of them (Al's mom included) were driving to the campground Al and Matt used to go to with their fathers. He looked at the duffel bag. "You packed everything?"

"Yep. Enough clothes for like, three weeks, and all the toiletries."

"Are you _sure_ you have everything?"

Alfred nodded. "Everything except our toothbrushes, 'cuz we're gonna need those after breakfast. By the way, the coffee's ready."

Matthew sat up and put on his glasses. Now _there_ was his motivation to get up.

…

Alfred drove for once, letting Matthew doze off against the window. He woke up once they pulled into the old neighbourhood, and looked around. "That was fast."

"You were out like a light, Mattie. And I may have sped a little. Just a little." Alfred pulled into the driveway of Matthew's old house, hopped out of the car, and grabbed the duffel bag from the backseat. "C'mon, let's go. I betcha all the old farts are sitting around and drinking coffee."

"Al, _we _sit around and drink coffee."

"Oh, right." Alfred shrugged. "Still, they do it way more than us."

"If you say so." They held hands on the way up the driveway, but once they got up to the house, Matthew whispered, "Should we tell them right away?"

"About us? I dunno. Maybe?"

"How about we wait a little? I bet they'll want to make a big deal out of it."

"Good point." Alfred squeezed Matthew's hand before letting it go. Matthew rang the doorbell.

His dad answered it with a grin. "Here they are! Come on in, there are donuts that still need eating."

"Donuts?"

"It's a special occasion! The first camping trip in what, ten years? And the first trip the ladies are coming along."

Alfred put the duffel bag down beside the door. "We've got our sleeping bags in the car. You've got the tents?"

"Yep, of course. And what, you two aren't sharing a sleeping bag still?" Matthew and Alfred looked at each other and then back at Matthew's dad. He waved them off. "I'm kidding, just kidding. I think you're both a little too tall for that now."

"Whatever, Dad." Matthew went over to the kitchen and kissed his mom on the cheek, and then Mrs. Jones, who was also over for coffee. "I just hope the mosquitoes won't be too bad this year."

"Don't remind me." Mrs. Jones shook her head and sighed. "I'm still wondering how I let myself get roped into this."

"Ditto," Matthew's mom said. "If it's really bad, we're taking the car and leaving you three behind."

"Fine with me!" Alfred kissed his mom on the cheek and gave Matthew's mom a hug. "So, what's new in the wonderful world of suburbia?"

"Bugger-all," Matthew's dad declared with a sigh. "It's boring as hell. What about you two? Anything new, anyone new?"

They both shrugged. "Yeah," Alfred's mom said, nudging Alfred. "Whatever happened to that one guy you were telling me about?"

"Uh… we're together." Alfred was slowly turning red.

Matthew quickly grabbed a donut and shoved half of it in his mouth to fend off questions.

"And you didn't bring him here for us to meet him? Alfred F. Jones, have some respect for your mother!"

Alfred looked at Matthew, who still had the donut shoved in his mouth, and tried to suppress a smirk. He failed.

Mrs. Jones rolled her eyes. "Fine. But if I don't meet this young man soon, I will march up to your apartment."

"That really won't be necessary," Matthew mumbled around the donut, and Alfred's mother raised her eyebrows.

"Why not? Have you met this guy?"

Matthew made a noncommittal sound. Matthew's father looked between them and sighed. "They're conspiring against us again, I'm sure of it."

Matthew took the donut out of his mouth and took a bite. That wasn't too far from the truth, actually.

…

They lounged around the house for the rest of the day, making sure they had all the necessary supplies for camping. And making an emergency run to the store for bug spray and s'mores materials. By the time evening rolled around, everyone was sure they had all the necessities. Until after dinner, when Alfred yelled, "Dammit! Matt, I forgot my toothbrush!"

"How did you pack mine, but forget yours?"

"I dunno."

Matthew was using his toothbrush at that moment, but when he was finished, he passed it to Alfred. "Here, use mine tonight. I'll see if Mom and Dad have a spare." They did indeed, so he packed it in the duffel bag.

Alfred was sleeping in the guest room, and Matthew in his old bedroom, so when they went to bed, they shared a quick kiss in the hallway. Then another. Then they heard footsteps nearby, so they went to their separate rooms.

"G'night, Mattie."

"Good night. Wake me up tomorrow if I won't get up when Mom wants me to, okay?"

"Will do."

Indeed, the next morning, Mrs. Williams banged on the door several times, but didn't succeed in convincing Matthew to get up. That took Alfred coming into the room and sitting on the bed. "Up ya get, Matt. You gotta make your badass, world-class pancakes for us."

"Don't wanna."

"C'mon, please?

Matthew rolled onto his back and glared up at Alfred. "Make me."

"Challenge accepted." Alfred leaned over Matthew and kissed him, running his hands up and down Matthew's arms lightly. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss a bit, one hand trailing down Matthew's chest, making his breath hitch and his cock stir slightly. But then he sat back up and smirked. "Nothing else unless you get up."

"You bastard." Matthew sat up, running a hand through his hair. "But fine, I'll go make pancakes. You can help me by setting the table."

The four of them, Matthew, Alfred, and Matt's parents, ate together, talking about the day's plans. They'd pack up the car and leave around ten, stopping for lunch on the way to the campground. When they got there, they'd set up camp, make dinner, and then spend time around the fire with some s'mores and beer. So, after breakfast, Mrs. Williams went to go get Alfred's mom while Mr. Williams packed up the car and Alfred and Matthew did the dishes.

Matthew was drying the last of the glasses and stretched up to put it back on the top shelf when Alfred suddenly hugged him from behind. He smiled, putting the glass away before resting a hand on Al's arm. "Hi."

"Hey." Alfred kissed the back of Matthew's neck, and Matthew turned his head so he could kiss Alfred properly.

Just then they heard a gasp from the doorway and both whipped their heads around to see Matthew's dad standing there, grinning. "Oh, I _knew_ it! Hey, honey," he called, "you'll never guess what I just saw!"

"What is it?"

"Dad, please," Matthew protested, "don't-"

"The boys were kissing!"

"Oh! About time, eh?"

Matthew put his face in his hands. "Dad, shut _up_."

Alfred laughed and kissed Matthew's cheek. "Hey, he could've seen _much _worse."

"Al!"

Matthew's dad just laughed. "Finally." He motioned for the two of them to come over and hugged them, messing up their hair. "It took you two long enough. We've been waiting forever for this, you know."

The two women appeared in the doorway, and Matthew's mom nodded. "That's true. Congratulations, boys."

Alfred's mom kissed him on the cheek. "So this is why I hadn't met that guy yet… I get it." She shook her head. "How long have you two been together, then?"

Matthew and Alfred looked at each other quickly. "Almost four months, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"And you didn't tell us?" Matthew's mom shook her head.

"Sorry, Mom. I just didn't want you guys to make a big fuss."

"You don't want _anyone_ making a fuss, Matt. When Francis bought us a bottle of wine last month, you got all embarrassed and stuff."

"Because you didn't even know what a Riesling was! …and because it was a thirty-dollar bottle of wine."

"And you won't pay thirty bucks for a shirt, because you're cheap. But I never went to wine school or whatever, you know. We mostly drink beer."

Matthew shrugged. "True, we don't really have much of a wine collection…"

"We don't have room, anyways. I mean yeah, we could always go to Ikea or whatever and get a wine rack, but…"

"Do we really need one?"

"Nah, probably not."

Matthew's dad sighed. "If you're done contemplating furniture shopping, can we go?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah!"

Alfred and Matthew had to sit in the very back of the car, since there wasn't much room. Matthew elbowed Alfred and whispered, "Did you pack anything… special?"

Alfred tilted his head. "Whaddya mean?"

"You know…" Matthew made vague hand gestures, but Alfred just looked even more confused.

"Bouncy balls?" he asked, rather loudly. Matthew rolled his eyes as his mother turned around from the front seat.

"What are you two talking about?"

"To tell the truth, I dunno." Alfred shrugged.

When she turned back around, Matthew leaned over and whispered right in Al's ear, "Lube. Did. You. Pack. Any?"

Alfred nodded quickly. "Yeah. Not a whole lot, but it should be enough."

"Good."

Alfred raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Good?"

"That's what I said."

"Oh, I see how it is…"

Matthew nudged Alfred. "You're the one who brought it, so don't start."

"Okay, true."

"You still owe me for this morning, by the way," Matthew muttered, looking out the window. Alfred just grinned.

"I know. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?"

"It'd better be."

They arrived at the campground in the early afternoon and started setting up tents. It was quickly decided that the older adults would share the larger, three-person tent, and that Matthew and Alfred would share the smaller tent. Unfortunately, the nearest toilet was about a mile away, so if nature called, they'd have to run off into the woods.

The five of them made hamburgers over the campfire for dinner, and Matthew rediscovered that cooking things over a wood fire makes them taste way better. When they were done eating and were sitting around, drinking beer, the parents decided to tell embarrassing stories that neither Alfred nor Matthew remembered.

"Remember the time they both ran down the street naked when my boss was over for dinner?"

Matthew choked on his beer. "We did _what?_"

Alfred's mom just nodded as Matthew's parents laughed. "He blinked a couple times, and then pretended nothing happened while I chased after the both of you."

"How old were we?"

"Three, I think. Young enough that you could still get away with that kind of stuff."

Matthew's dad chuckled. "I can top that. My mother-in-law was visiting us, and these two come out of the bathroom carrying a box of condoms."

Alfred cringed, and Matthew looked around for something to hide behind. Matthew's mom laughed. "I remember that! Then Matt asked, 'Daddy, what are these?' and my mother looked like she was about to have a conniption."

"I said something like, 'you use them with people you love,' you know, to shut him up so I wouldn't have to explain. Of course, then Al wrecked that by saying 'so, can Mattie and I use them together?'"

Alfred's mom burst out laughing, and Matthew put his face in his hands. "Oh, Jesus Christ."

"Okay, okay!" Alfred said, waving his hands around. "Enough making us regret our childhood. Instead, let's… make s'mores!"

Matthew nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea."

Matthew's dad elbowed him. "C'mon, if you ever have kids, you'll find all sorts of excuses to tell embarrassing stories about them when they're older. It's a rite of passage!"

"Sure thing, Dad. Now where are the marshmallows?"

After the s'mores, everyone retired to their separate tents to sleep. Alfred unzipped their sleeping bags all the way and laid one on top of the other. "Ta-dah! Makeshift queen-sized bed. Though it's really more like a double."

Matthew smiled. "Good job. Where's the flashlight, by the way?"

"Over here. Why?"

"I'm probably going to have to get up later tonight." When Alfred raised his eyebrows, Matthew sighed. "To go pee in the woods, you dork."

"Aw… you know, I still owe you for this morning…"

"And you know our parents are about twenty feet away, right?"

"Yeah. So what?"

"They could hear-"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Dude, I can be quiet when I want to." He flopped down on the sleeping bags and wriggled underneath, taking off his glasses. "Now c'mon, I'm getting cold."

Matthew followed Alfred into their D.I.Y. bed and pushed his glasses off to the side. "I still have moral objections to _that_. What if they opened the tent?"

"Hang a sock on the outer zipper? I dunno."

"Forget I even asked." Matthew sighed and kissed Alfred. "Good night."

"Sweet dreams, babe."

As Matthew thought he would, he woke up in the middle of the night, needing to pee rather badly. So he got up and grabbed the flashlight, sneaking off into the woods a little ways. He shone the light around a bit as he relieved himself, and saw something shine back at him. He squinted at it for a moment before he realised that it was a pair of eyes. Something was staring back at him. It seemed to move closer, so Matthew quickly finished up, tucked himself back in his pants, and flat-out _ran_ back to the tent, whispering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

He woke Alfred up by zipping the tent shut rather loudly and diving back under the top sleeping bag. "What the fuck are you doing?" he asked groggily.

"There's something out there. It watched me pee."

"Seriously?" Alfred rolled his eyes. "Pussy. Gimme the flashlight, I gotta pee anyways." About a minute later, he heard Alfred's hurried footsteps outside the tent, before Alfred slipped back inside, zipped it up, and hid under the sleeping bag. "Oh my god, I saw it too."

"What do you think it was?"

"Coyote or bobcat or something. Do not want."

"See? I'm not a pussy."

Alfred sighed. "Maybe not. But now I'm not gonna be able to get back to sleep."

"Me either, don't worry." Matthew rolled onto his side, and Alfred scooted closer until they were pretty much nose-to-nose.

"So, what do ya want to talk about?"

"No idea."

Alfred shrugged, and then kissed Matthew. "M'kay, so… every time we can't think of anything to say, how about we kiss?"

"Sounds good to me." Matthew smiled. "Remember how we used to share a sleeping bag on these trips?"

"Up until we got too big to fit in one together. I think we learned that lesson after we almost got stuck that one time…"

"I remember that. You were too embarrassed to ask our dads for help, so I had to figure out how to wiggle my arm out and unzip us."

"You know they would've just laughed at us, taken a picture, and not helped out at all."

"You're probably right." Matthew thought for a moment, then kissed Alfred.

"Speaking of embarrassment," Alfred murmured, "I still remember those awkward moments…"

"Which awkward moments?"

"Where one or both of us would wake up with morning wood."

"Oh. Yeah." Matthew shook his head. "I remember that too. You know, I never told anyone."

"Me either. I figured it was nobody else's business, yanno?"

"Yeah, I do."

Both of them were silent for a moment before kissing, one of Alfred's hands reaching around to rest on Matthew's lower back, pulling him in. When he pulled back, he bit his lip for a moment. "Do you remember… that one time?"

"Hmm?"

"You know…" Alfred looked away as he muttered, "The time we've never, ever talked about. Not even once."

Matthew only had to think for a second before he remembered. "Do you mean that time you-?"

"Yeah." Alfred nodded. "Summer after tenth grade, when we still shared a sleeping bag."

"I remember." Matthew tilted his head. "What were you even-?"

"It's awkward, okay?" Alfred sighed. "I don't remember what I was dreaming about or anything. All I know is when I woke up, I was all up on your leg, and I was really, _really_ close, so…" he trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Matthew let his memory fill in the gap. He remembered waking up because Alfred was moving around, and was about to tell him to settle down when he noticed one of his legs was in between Al's, pressing against his groin, and that Alfred was rocking his hips onto it. Matthew didn't move, frozen in place and unable to do so, but Alfred woke up soon enough. He stopped moving and just looked confused for a second.

Apparently, just being pressed up against Matthew was too much and he came with a muffled moan and a shiver, his hips jerking forward again. Matthew had felt the warmth through his pajama pants, and it made him close his eyes as a sort of shock ran through him. But just as he opened his mouth to say something, to ask if that had really just happened, he was interrupted. Alfred bit down gently on his shoulder, making that little jolt shoot to Matthew's groin again.

He stayed completely still as Alfred's hand pressed against his leg, feeling where he had come. Then Alfred's hand moved forward, gripping Matthew through his pajamas. Matthew had whispered, "Al-" but Alfred shook his head, signaling for him to not say anything. So Matthew just bit his lip, squeezing his legs together as Alfred's hand stroked him through his pants. He felt Alfred's face pressed into his shoulder, his lips hovering over Matthew's neck.

Alfred's hand had slipped into Matthew's pants, and he took Matthew in hand again. He had rubbed his thumb over the head, smearing around the precum that had gathered there, before jerking Matthew in quick, even spurts. Matthew came before he could even think of holding it back, gasping as he spurted into Alfred's hand, which kept moving along his length until he was completely finished. Then Alfred had moved his hand out of Matthew's pants, wiped it on his own pajamas, and closed his eyes. Not saying a word the whole time.

"You know," Matthew murmured, coming back from his trip down memory lane, "I always wondered why you did that."

Alfred shook his head. "I dunno, to tell you the truth. It was like I was drunk or something. Seriously, if I knew, I'd tell you."

Matthew smirked. "You know, for years I kind of… used that as a fallback fantasy."

"I never _intentionally_ jerked off to that, but… it did sort of pop into my head sometimes. I mean, that was the first time I'd ever done anything with anyone."

"We were each other's first kiss and first sexual experience…" Matthew shook his head. "I'm surprised we didn't lose our virginities to each other."

Alfred hid his face in Matthew's chest. "I thought about that," he mumbled. "The summer after senior year."

"You were still a virgin then?"

"Yeah. Weren't you?" Matthew didn't answer, instead kissing Alfred. But he persisted, asking, "When _did_ you lose it, then?"

"Do you remember the Dutch foreign exchange student in our calculus class?"

"Vaguely, yeah."

"He had a sort of Christmas party at his host family's house. You had the stomach flu, so I went on my own, and… well, stuff happened. We didn't really talk much after that."

"Well." Alfred sighed. "And I waited until fall break our freshman year at uni. You remember the soccer player?"

"Yes." Matthew had _hated_ the soccer player. Even more than most of the others.

"That was the guy. It wasn't all that great, to be honest. I never thought sex could make you feel like 'meh,' but there you have it."

"I didn't like him."

"I know." Alfred laughed softly. "The guy you hated the _least_ was Arthur."

"Yep. Well, Arthur and myself."

"I'd hope you wouldn't hate yourself." Alfred kissed Matthew, smiling at him. "You know, I'm sort of glad it took us this long. Now we actually mostly know what we're doing when it comes to this whole dating thing."

Matthew laughed softly. "Mostly."

"Yeah. Even if I _still _don't know how to say 'I wanna have sex' without actually saying it…"

"You mean like right now?" Matthew knew what face Alfred made when he was blushing, so even in the near-blackness of the tent, he could tell Alfred had turned pink. "You've been half-hard for the past five or so minutes. I can feel it against my leg."

"Oh." Alfred looked away. "Yeah."

Matthew nudged Alfred's legs apart with one of his own and cupped Al's groin. "Just keep your voice down, okay? No waking anyone else up."

"I know." Alfred tugged at Matthew's shirt, urging him to take it off, so Matthew pulled back for a moment to take it off. Alfred took his own shirt off and they were right back on each other, Alfred biting his lip as Matthew rubbed his crotch, slowly thrusting his hips forward.

Matthew tugged Alfred's pants down and slipped a hand into his boxers, running his fingers over the head of Al's cock. Alfred let out a low, breathy moan that went straight to Matthew's cock, a trickle of precum dribbling onto Matthew's fingers. He rubbed it around the head of Alfred's erection before wrapping his hand around it properly, rocking his own hips forward slightly.

Alfred pulled him closer, kissing him and pulling down their boxers. "Fuck, Mattie…"

"Shh." Matthew put a finger over Alfred's lips, reminding him to be quiet. Of course, Alfred sucked the tip of Matthew's finger into his mouth, and Matthew got distracted. He slid his cock against Alfred's, wrapping his hand around both of them, and Alfred moaned again. The sound made Matthew hold back a groan of his own, and he hushed Alfred again. "Al, be quiet."

"Sorry." Alfred didn't sound very sorry, especially when one of his hands joined Matthew in jerking them both off. He nipped Matthew's collarbone and lifted his head up slightly. "Jesus, Matt… you are _way _too good with your hands."

Matthew was about to ask if he needed to cover Alfred's mouth or something when Al suddenly ducked his head back down, kissing along Matthew's chest before taking one of his nipples into his mouth. He squeezed both of their cocks at the same time, and Matthew bit his lip, a tiny groan slipping past his lips. That just wasn't fair.

They were both dripping precum by then, sliding together, everything getting warm and wet and sticky, and Matthew closed his eyes for a moment, just basking in it. This was almost as good as sex all on its own. Alfred kissed Matthew sloppily, and it was really more like they were kind of pressing their lips together in between gasps for breath, but it was still great. Matthew leaned his forehead against Alfred's, breathing heavily, and he felt Alfred's erection throb in his hand.

"Oh, fuck… I-I'm close," Alfred choked out, and Matthew nodded, tilting his head back slightly. Alfred muffled his moans by biting down on Matthew's shoulder as he came, hot and wet in Matthew's hand. Matthew shuddered, following close behind. And _fuck_, it seemed to go on forever, Alfred's hand still moving up and down his cock until he had absolutely nothing left. Matthew closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He could feel Alfred still biting and sucking at his neck, and he was so oversensitive that it was almost too much. Alfred lifted his head back up when Matthew rubbed his back gently, and kissed him, blinking slowly.

"I still can't believe I actually like it when you bite me," Matthew murmured. Pain wasn't really his thing. But he supposed Alfred didn't really hurt him, since those bites never broke his skin and the bruises on his skin faded away after a few days.

"I can't believe you like it, either. A lot of guys used to push me off and yell at me for it. But dude, if I'm bored, I can just lean over and bite you and bam! I'm pinned to the couch."

"You do that _way_ too often."

"Nah. No such thing." Alfred grabbed their pants and boxers again. "Hang on a sec, I know I packed a rag somewhere…"

"You really did plan for this, eh?"

"Hey, isn't that the Boy Scout motto? Be prepared?"

"…I don't think they meant it like that."

"Probably not. But it works for me!" Alfred wiped himself up before tossing the rag to Matthew, who sighed.

"By the way, you were _not_ quiet."

"Sorry." Alfred looked a little sheepish. "It's just like… whenever you take charge and stuff… I get all worked up."

"I know. But as long as you didn't wake anyone up…"

"Hang on." Alfred peeked out of the tent.

"You're still naked," Matthew hissed, "get back in here!"

"Calm your tits, everyone's still asleep." Alfred zipped up the tent.

Matthew rolled his eyes and put his pants back on. Alfred turned around just then and raised his eyebrows, and Matthew pointed a finger at him. "No. Once a night is enough."

"I know, I know. Besides, I'm not gonna be able to get it up again for like, at least fifteen minutes. Stupid refractory periods." He lay back next to Matthew after putting his pants back on. "Speaking of which, lesbians."

"What about them?"

"When they have sex, when do they stop? Cuz with guys, when we're done, we're done for a while. But girls have about a ten-second refractory period, lucky them. So they can just keep going and going, like the frickin' energizer bunny or something."

Matthew smirked. "I'm sure lesbians would just _love_ being compared to that."

"Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean, though. Seriously, when do they stop? When they get tired or hungry?"

"I'd assume so."

Alfred sighed. "We need to befriend a lesbian couple so I can ask that without getting punched in the face." He snuggled up to Matthew, and they dozed off for a while until Alfred whistled softly. "Damn… could you imagine? Just being able to go and go without stopping. You could have sex for an hour straight each day and never have to worry about exercising!"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Of course that's what you think of… I'm not sure whether to call you lazy or a pervert."

"Why not both?" Alfred grinned, waggling his eyebrows at Matthew before kissing him. He rolled on top of Matthew and straddled his hips. "Besides, you never turn me down unless it's gonna make us late for something."

"Last time, the guys knew _exactly _why I was twenty minutes late to the bar. Apparently, I have an 'I just had sex' walk that I don't know about."

Alfred snickered. "Seriously? I'm gonna have to test that one out. Have a quickie and then go grocery shopping or something."

"…I'd rather not."

"Yeah, whatever. Now shut up and kiss me."

Matthew obliged, leaning into the kiss when Alfred's hands cupped his face. Just then, their tent flap was thrown open and Matthew's dad stuck his head in. "Hand check!" he yelled, and both Matthew and Alfred put their hands up, too surprised to act any other way. Then Matthew's dad raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "Well, well. From the way things look, maybe I should've said 'dick check' instead…"

"GAH! Dad!" Matthew put his hands over his face, and Alfred rolled off of him.

"We're both wearing pants, see? Jeez."

"Good. That would not be fun to explain to your moms…" He smirked. "Sorry ladies, they're busy boinking. Give them about five minutes."

"Dad! No!"

"Five minutes? Seriously?" Alfred shook his head. "You underestimate us, old man."

"I'll take your word for it. Anyways, get up! It's breakfast time, and then we're going hiking."

"Okay, now leave and let us get changed."

He left, zipping the tent back up, and Alfred glanced over at Matthew. He grinned suddenly, and Matthew rolled his eyes. "What is it _now?_"

"Right now, there are _four _tents pitched in our little encampment."

Matthew furrowed his eyebrows. "Four…?" Then Alfred glanced pointedly at his crotch, so he looked down. "Oh. Oh, god. Did Dad notice?"

"I dunno. Hope not."

"If I don't die of embarrassment by the end of this week, that'll be a miracle."

* * *

_Thank you for reading! As always, point out any grammar or spelling mistakes you see, and let me know what you thought!_


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